


You Don't Have To Say I Love You

by kingsquid1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Abusive Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsquid1/pseuds/kingsquid1
Summary: Things seem to stay pretty much the same after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry Potter is still angry and confused, Ron and Hermione still fight, and Draco still can't stop looking at Harry. But things begin to shift, and soon everything begins to fall apart.





	1. Thrown in the Deep End

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This story contains depictions of PTSD, self harm, abuse and suicidal thoughts that may be triggering for some readers. Please be careful x

Despite everything, he still looked the same. 

Hair still untameable, round glasses, soft face, skinny and tall, and of course, the jagged red scar on his forehead. 

Draco had hoped something might have changed about Potter, made him different, changed the way Draco looked at him. But it was still the same, except their rivalry took place at the Ministry of Magic instead of at Hogwarts.

He rolled his eyes as the golden fucking trio walked into the elevator. Hermione said, “Good morning, Draco.” Business as usual. Ron gave him an awkward nod. Potter opened his mouth, frowned, and settled for a strange half-smile.

Draco made a (mostly) involuntary noise of mockery, which ignited an immediate response.

“What, Malfoy?”

“Harry, leave it.” Hermione’s voice was still as exasperated as it had always been whenever Draco got a rise out of Potter. 

“Oh, nothing, Potter. I thought for a moment that you’d forgotten how to speak.” The snarky comment was out of his mouth before he even thought to hold back. He regretted it almost instantly. Everyone here already despised him, what was he doing, pissing off their golden boy?

But what had changed since school, it seemed, was that Potter didn’t retort back or recklessly pull his wand on Draco. He just shrugged, and got off the elevator at the next stop.

Draco felt embarrassed. Of course Potter hadn’t pulled his wand on him, they were working at the Ministry of Fucking Magic. This wasn’t high school. You couldn’t just mess around and get detention for it. If you mess around, you get sacked. Especially if both your parents are in Azkaban for war crimes.

Draco let out his breath in a frustrated sigh, and began the long trek to his office. Everyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts had automatically been given a job as an auror if they wanted one, except of course, those who had fought on the other side. 

Most of the Slytherins hadn't been as lucky as Draco. 

He still didn't know why he had got the job. He almost hadn't applied at all, so sure that he would be denied, given the fact that he was literally a Death Eater. He even had the fucking tattoo, for Merlin's sake. But something had made him send in the application, and for some reason, he had been accepted. 

Every other Slytherin student had been rejected. 

The guilt was there, but Draco was used to it. He'd had the same feeling in his gut for years, from the first time he'd realised he liked boys and not girls, until he'd first met Potter, and every waking moment since then when his thoughts had drifted from his family duty to the dark haired boy that intrigued him so much.

"Malfoy. Have you finished your reports yet?" Hermione stood over him, looking distinctly annoyed that she had been designated the task of speaking to him.

"I put them on your desk an hour ago, Granger," he sighed.

Hermione frowned. "Well, they aren't there now."

Draco shrugged, signalling that this conversation was over. He had put the reports on her desk. What happened after that was someone else's problem.

-

"Malfoy looks different," Harry said, scowling at the blonde from across the room. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.

"I dunno. He's… paler."

Ron choked on his chocolate frog. "I'm pretty sure that's impossible, mate. He's basically transparent."

"Yeah, which is unusual." 

Harry watched Malfoy open a file and look at its contents. 

"Don't both of you have work to be doing?" Hermione had walked over to them. Her hair had been trimmed to shoulder length, and was tied back in a neat bun. She looked very professional, unlike Ron and Harry.

“Some things never change, do they?” Ron sighed. His hair was getting longer, falling in his face constantly. His robes were tattered and worn, shoes scuffed, lounging on his desk chair.

“What?”

“You. Always bugging us to do work.” 

“Well, if I didn’t, you would never get anything done.”

“Yeah, but we just do it badly anyway.”

“You’ll only learn by practise, Ronald.”

“Oh, we’re busting out the full name now, are we?”

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m not trying to-”

Harry zoned them out. Their bickering was almost constant in the workplace, as it had been in school. There had been the brief grace period just after they had got together, when it seemed their fighting had only been because neither wanted to admit their feelings for the other, but now it was back to the usual.

Well, he was one to talk. He and Ginny hadn’t been doing much better lately.

Harry picked up today’s Daily Prophet, looking to peruse an article on garden gnomes, but unfortunately the front page caught his eye.

_**INEXPERIENCED AURORS: THE DOWNFALL OF THE NEW MINISTRY**  
HOW AURORS THAT HAVE LITTLE FIELD EXPERIENCE BEING HIRED IS PUTTING US ALL IN DANGER_

_In the Battle of Hogwarts, many of our best aurors were killed by You Know Who and his followers. The new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has assured us that the ministry has made up for this by recruiting new aurors from those that fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. “The new aurors are young, yes,” Shacklebolt said, “however, they are all receiving the proper training that all new aurors require. We are not putting inexperienced aurors out into the field.”_

_There is no proof for or against Shacklebolt’s statement, however, there is evidence to say that the aurors are slacking. In the last two weeks alone, there have been multiple reports of muggle attacks, secret meetings and dark magic which people are fearing to be a resurgence of Death Eater activity. _

_Reginald Flourence, who is a senior member working in the auror office, has assured us that there is no real concern. “These are just people messing around and trying to scare everyone. Voldemort is dead, and his Death Eaters have either followed suit, or ended up in Azkaban.”_

_However, another ministry employee, who wished to remain anonymous, has said the opposite. “The Ministry is crumbling,” they said, “Shacklebolt doesn’t know what to do since most of the Ministry’s best employees were either killed or turned out to be Death Eaters. He has hired inexperienced teenagers in a poor attempt to-”_

“Harry, the Prophet is full of shit. Stop reading that nonsense,” Hermione said, snatching the newspaper from his hands.

“Hermione, to quote you, ‘It’s good to know what the enemy is thinking.’” 

Ron snickered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “When I said that, the Prophet was working directly for Voldemort. Now it’s just a bunch of nosy journalists trying to find an interesting story.”

Harry shrugged. He still thought it was useful to know what the public was reading and thinking. 

“Well, it’s almost 2. We should get to training.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll see you two there, I just have a couple of things to finish up first.” She bustled off to her desk.

“Do you think she actually knows what’s going on, or is she just as confused as the rest of us?” Ron asked. 

Harry shook his head. “No idea.”

To say that they had been thrown in the deep end was an understatement. 

They had always been told that auror training was rigorous. Harry knew it was difficult to get in especially, because of the difficulty he had in Fifth Year to try and convince Umbridge that he could be an auror. He had almost had his dreams crushed after his O.W.Ls, thinking that he needed an O instead of an E in potions. But Slughorn had replaced Snape, and Harry had taken potions.

However, none of them had done their N.E.W.Ts. Even the students who had (almost) completed their seventh year hadn’t written exams.

But, everyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and had finished school had been given an opportunity to be an auror, if they wished. Most people had said yes. 

They reached the training hall fairly quickly, and Hermione was somehow already there. 

“How in the name of Merlin did you get here before us?” Ron asked, incredulous.

Hermione shrugged.

“I swear she still has that time turner,” Ron muttered to Harry as Kingsley walked into the room. 

“Quiet down, quiet down, training is about to begin.”

-

Draco stood on the end of the row of aurors, separated from the bunch. The majority were Gryffindors - pretty much all of them had chosen to be aurors. There were also a lot of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but he was alone. Pansy had laughed when he’d suggested she apply to. “Even if was allowed in, I wouldn’t be able to stand it. It would just be Potter and his friends getting all the glory, and us on the sidelines.”

She had a point. 

“Today we’re going to be practising disillusionment spells. They’re pretty basic, but a lot of people who train to be aurors fail the exam because they can’t do the basics.”

Usually, aurors were chosen by a much more rigorous screening process. Only those with the highest marks - generally Outstanding in almost all subjects, and definitely nothing below an Exceeds Expectations, were chosen for training. Then, they were put into the auror academy for two years and trained before they took a final exam, with written, and practical elements, as well as a psychological screening, to finally become an auror.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, less than half of the aurors remained. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

The new recruits had been put straight to work, with training squeezed into their schedules. There was a senior auror put to train the recruits, in pairs, as well as general classes. 

Shacklebolt finished demonstrating the spell, and they began to practise. 

“Deflectere!” 

Draco immediately felt the sensation of an egg being cracked on his head, and the cold washing over his entire body. When he looked down, he could only see the floor, with a shimmering, glassy texture over the area where he knew his body was.

He looked around. Only a few other people had succeeded on their first try. Granger, of course; Potter, also expected; some others whose names he didn’t know; and, surprisingly, Neville Longbottom. 

“Good effort! Those of you who failed, make sure your pronunciation is correct. Finnigan, your wand movement is slightly off…” as Shacklebolt moved between the students, correcting them, Draco waved his wand and the charm dissipated. He felt the reverse of the original spell - a warmth flooding him from head to toe.

-

It took a couple more tries for Ron to get it, Hermione correcting him until he slowly disappeared. The three of them stood around for a while, until most people had succeeded, and Kingsley moved on. The rest of the lesson went similarly - Harry and Hermione easily performing spells, Ron close behind, and the rest of the class (spare a few others), taking a while longer.

“Even Neville’s doing better than me,” Ron huffed, “look.” He pointed at Neville, who performed a perfect Finite Incantatem, exploding the floating beanbag which Kingsley had conjured for them.

“Ron, don’t beat yourself up. You’re still doing really well,” Hermione said, “you just need to listen more.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron snapped, glaring at Hermione. 

“I’m just saying, Ron, Kingsley shows us exactly how to perform the spells. Just copy him exactly, and-”

“Not all of us have photographic fucking memory, Hermione.”

Harry tuned out their bickering once again, and found his eyes came to rest on Malfoy. His beanbag, like Harry’s, had disintegrated first try. Malfoy was impressively good at magic - at a higher level than most of Dumbledore’s Army. 

Then again, Malfoy had been a Death Eater. 

Kingsley wrapped up the lesson soon after that, and they headed home. Hermione was still living with her parents in London, but Ron and Harry apparated back to the Burrow with Mr Weasley. 

Term ended the next day, which meant Mrs Weasley was busy making Ginny’s bed, and she immediately set Harry and Ron on degnomeing the garden.

“What? Why?”

“Your sister is coming home tomorrow, Ronald,” she said, glaring at him.

“Ginny doesn’t care about the gnomes-”

“Ron, just listen to your mother, please,” Mr Weasley said, giving him a look that begged him not to make Molly mad. 

Ron obliged, scowling, and stomped out into the garden. 

“As if Ginny will even notice whether we’ve got bloody gnomes or not,” Ron said, reaching deep into a bush to pull out one of the little creatures.  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, not really listening. He missed Ginny. Of course he did. He hadn’t seen her in three months. But there was also something else in the pit of his stomach, telling him that he was also dreading seeing Ginny a little bit. 

They fought so much now, and they hardly got any time to spend just the two of them with Harry working every day. Even weekends were filled with writing report after report that they hadn’t finished during the week, and when Harry and Ron were finally finished it was all they could do not to pass out on their way up the stairs. 

They were definitely in over their heads.


	2. Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings:  
physical abuse

Draco and Pansy had been sharing an apartment since the start of the year. Draco could have stayed in his parents' mansion, but it had felt too empty. Too big. And of course, it was haunted by the memories of the Dark Lord-

And his father.

"How was work?" Pansy asked as Draco flopped on the couch. 

"You can hardly call it work," he sighed, "It's just extended school with a bit of job experience."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic. A lot of people would kill to be in your position." She sat down next to him, and inspected her nails.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly fun when everyone has a fucking vendetta against you, Pansy." 

"I know, Draco." She sighed. "People will forget about it eventually, though."

"Forget about it?" Draco snarled, and yanked up the sleeve of his robe. "How the fuck is anyone going to forget?" The Mark on his arm was still there, although faded. "This will never go away. I will always be different from them."

Pansy put her hand over the Mark. "I know, Draco. But things will get easier, even if they don't get altogether better."

He took a deep breath. "Sorry for getting angry."

"It's okay. I know it's hard for you right now." She paused. "You know… the rest of us aren't exactly sailing through either… It's different, but I've been talking to Blaise, and, well, we've had similar experiences. People still tiptoe around us, or sneer at us… You should come back to the old gang, Draco."

Draco didn't respond, avoiding eye contact. 

'The gang' had devolved to just the three of them. Draco, Blaise and Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle had begun to separate themselves even before the Battle, and most of the other people who hung out with them had only done it for status.

"Maybe. I don't know. Are you sure Blaise still wants to…"

"It's worth a shot, Draco. He used to be your best friend."

Draco sighed, and pulled out some work he needed to finish. He'd think about it.

-

"Cheer up, mate, Ginny's going to be here in a few minutes," Ron said. 

Harry forced a smile. Ron had always been bad at reading emotions, but he couldn't blame him for thinking Harry's bad mood was due to missing Ginny, rather than seeing her.

Hermione was not so easy to fool.

"Harry, can I talk to you for a second?"

She had come home with them that day, so she could see Ginny and spend the weekend. 

She took him outside.

"Harry… I know you and Ginny aren't exactly going smoothly at the moment." 

"Whatever gave you that impression?" He said, with a bit more menace in his sarcasm than Hermione deserved.

"You're always fighting whenever you see each other, and I know it's partially because of work. You're always busy- we all are- so… what if I did your work this weekend? I'll finish all your reports and you can just spend the weekend with Ginny."

He knew the offer was genuine, and knew Hermione was only trying to help, but something inside him that had been bubbling up for a while just decided to explode.

"I'm not as fucking useless as you think I am, Hermione. It's not like your relationship is going any better than mine anyway. Don't use this as an excuse not to talk to Ron because you're 'too busy helping me'. I can handle my own fucking life, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I was just trying to-"

"Yeah, well, stop trying," he snarled, and Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the loud pop of apparition. 

Ginny.

Her hair was still long and silky, her face speckled with freckles. She was wearing a simple cropped shirt and ripped jeans. She was still beautiful. 

“Hey!” She grinned, walking towards them, lugging her trunk behind her. Harry didn’t move for a couple seconds, debating the socially acceptable thing to do, and then moved forwards.

“Hey.” He kissed her, but she broke away quickly. “Can I take your trunk?” He asked.

“Nah, I’m good. Hi, Hermione!” She put her trunk down at the door and gave Hermione a long hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Ginny. How was school?”

She made a face. “Lame without all of you guys there. I’ve still got Luna, though.”

Hermione nodded, unsure as always what to say about Luna. “Well, your N.E.W.Ts are coming up soon, and then you’ll be out of school with us.”

“Yeah! I can’t wait. It sucks that I’ll still have to go through all the original auror tests while you guys got a free pass, though.”

Harry felt increasingly awkward. Hermione and Ginny were chatting like they’d been best friends since childhood. Was Ginny being deliberately cold, or was he imagining things? 

“Ginny!” Mrs Weasley opened the front door. “Come inside, supper’s almost ready. Harry, take her trunk upstairs. Hermione, will you lay the table?”

Hermione nodded, following Mrs Weasley inside.

“Uh,” Harry said, gesturing at her trunk, “I suppose I’d better take this.”

“Yes, I suppose you better had,” Ginny said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

“Um, how was the journey?”

“Fine. Stuffy. People made fun of Luna again. How’s work?”

“Hard. And a bit boring. It’s a lot of paperwork, they still won’t let us do field stuff.”

Ginny shrugged. “It’s probably for the best, what with everything the Prophet’s been saying.”

Harry frowned, but didn’t want to fight, so shrugged. “Yeah.” He took her trunk and they walked inside. 

That night, after supper, Ginny jerked her head in the direction of the garden. Harry followed her out. 

"Hey," he said, "what's up?"

"Hey," she said, and paused, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, Harry, I…" 

A feeling of cold dread washed over him. 

He knew what was coming.

"I still love you. Really, I do. But we can both tell it's not working. I don't know if it's the long distance, or your work, or maybe it's just us, but we only ever fight anymore." 

"Ginny, please…" he said, not sure where he was going with this. 

"I'm sorry."

"Listen, just…" This couldn't happen. Not now. "Hermione offered to do all my work for this weekend so we could spend time together. Please, just let me take her up on that. I'll spend this weekend with you, and then I'll stay on top of my work these holidays so I won't always have extra stuff to do. I can make this work. I… I don’t want to lose you." 

He really hoped Hermione would forgive him. 

Ginny gave him a look. He wasn’t really sure what it meant.

“Okay, Harry. I don’t want to lose you either.”

-

“Draco, just come. It’ll be fun.” 

“We have very different ideas of fun, Pansy.” 

She rolled her eyes. She was holding black lipstick in one hand and eyeliner in the other.

“I’ve been there before, it’s not like other bars. Please, Draco?”

He glared at her. 

“I’ll do all the chores for this week.”

He paused, contemplating. “Fine. I’ll go.” Pansy grinned broadly. “But no lipstick.”

An hour of painful eyeliner and painstakingly chosen outfits later, Pansy and Draco headed out into town. 

Pansy had recently cut her hair. She had a long bob, with a shaved part at the bottom. Her hair was currently loose, hiding the undercut. She had several ear piercings, and wore a black crop top with ripped jeans. 

Draco was wearing a black button up with silver patterns tucked into black jeans. He pushed his fringe back, feeling very self-conscious. It was one thing for Pansy to tell him he looked good in their apartment, but actually being out in public was a whole different story. 

Soon after they got to the bar, Draco had already downed three shots of tequila. 

“I still don’t understand why we’re at a Muggle bar,” Draco said, just loud enough that Pansy could hear him over the music.

“Because it’s way better than wizarding ones. Wizards don’t even have any gay bars that I know of, anyway. And it’s not like we’re here to make friends, Draco.”

“Yeah, we’re just here to get drunk and feel regret.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. I came here to get laid.” Her eyes scanned the bar, and found a suitable subject. She gestured to the bartender. 

“I’m buying that girl a refill of whatever she’s got.” 

“You’re really just going to leave me here?” Draco whined. 

“No. I’m leaving you alone so that the guy who’s been eyeing you this whole time has a chance.” She winked, and looked over his shoulder. Draco turned around, to see a man with long, blonde hair smirking at him. Draco blushed and gave a small smile back.

The man stood up, and made his way over. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m Luke.”

“Draco.”

“Draco? That’s an interesting name.” 

“Thanks,” Draco smiled at Luke. It had just dawned on him properly that Luke was a Muggle. He had no idea that magic existed, no idea that Draco was a wizard.

For a brief moment, he wondered what his father would say, but something that might have been the tequila made him think, fuck it. 

“You wanna get out of here?” 

Luke smiled. “My place or yours?”

Draco paused, thinking of Pansy and the girl she was attempting to hook up with.

“Yours.”

“Works for me.”

A short and vaguely awkward cab ride later, they arrived at Luke’s apartment. It was small, and modest, but tidy. Luke lead Draco to the bedroom, and kissed him. Draco melted into the kiss. Both of them had alcohol-stained breath. Then, suddenly, Luke shoved Draco against the wall, pinning him there as he kissed him. 

Draco felt his heartbeat speed up. Panic. He couldn’t breath. His throat had closed up, Luke was before him, but he looked so much like Draco’s father-

_“Draco, what have I told you?” Lucius Malfoy yelled, shoving Draco against the bedroom wall._

_“I mustn’t talk to the Muggle boys.”_

_“Exactly.” A cold hand grabbed his throat and pushed him further against the wall. “They are scum, Draco. They know nothing of magic, know nothing of greatness, nothing of the Dark Lord.”_

_Draco tried to speak, but he couldn’t. His eyes watered as he choked._

_Lucius Malfoy released his grip. “I want what’s best for you, Draco. You know that.”_

_“Yes, father,” he coughed, his throat still burning from his father’s grip._

_“I love you, Draco.”_

_“I love you too, father.”_

Draco was breathing heavily. He realised he was on the floor, curled up. Luke was staring at him, scared. “What- what happened? Did I do something?”

“No, I… I’m sorry, I have to…” Draco stood up, almost fell over, and made his way to the door.

“Wait! Draco, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m sorry, Luke, I have to go.”

He opened the door and sprinted as fast as he could out of the apartment.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He couldn’t go back home. Pansy was… busy, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself. His lungs burned as he came to a halt outside another block of flats, and realised what area of town he was in. 

This was where Blaise lived. 

No. He couldn’t ghost Blaise for months and then just walk into his apartment in the middle of the night. 

But what other option did he have?

Draco walked up the stairs of the apartment buildings, and stopped outside Blaise’s door. 

Fuck.

He knocked.

Five seconds. Ten seconds. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen-

The door opened.

“Who- Draco?”

“Hi, Blaise.”

“Uh,” Blaise said.

“I’m sorry. I just… I was at this guy’s house, and I panicked and left, and Pansy probably has someone over right now, I didn’t know who else to go to-”

“It’s okay. Come in.”


	3. Mending

Blaise set down a cup of tea in front of Draco.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

There were a few moments of silence. 

Draco took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to just barge in here after months of completely ignoring you."

"It's alright, Draco." Blaise smiled awkwardly. "I don't really blame you." He put down his cup of tea and ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. "I was a total asshole." 

Draco didn't meet his eyes. "I was really drunk."

"Yeah. So was I." 

It had been only a month or so after the battle. Blaise, Pansy and Draco had needed to distract themselves from, well, everything, so they had decided to head out and get completely hammered.

Draco vaguely remembered stumbling around with Pansy, both trying to lean on the other for support, giggling, when they'd seen them.

Harry fucking Potter, with his girlfriend, and the rest of their gang. Doing the exact same thing that their trio was doing too, presumably. 

The only concrete thing he remembered feeling that night was hatred. Hatred of Ginny, of everything she had. Maybe it was better described as envy. He had stumbled over to Blaise. "Blaise, Blaise, Blaise, guesswhat. Guess whaaaaat." 

Blaise laughed, "Whaaat, Draco?" 

"It's a secret. You can't tell anyone, kay?"

"I won't. What is it?"

Draco leaned in to Blaise, and said in his ear, "I think I might be a little bit in love with Harry Potter." 

Blaise looked at him, wide eyed. "Uh, what?"

"Don't tell anyone! You promised!" Draco giggled, and almost fell over.

"What the fuck, Draco? Is this some kind of joke? My whole fucking family is in Azkaban because of him. So is yours. So are half our friends'. This isn't funny, Draco."

Draco didn't remember much. The music being too loud, Blaise being angry, him being envious. Pansy told him what he had said the next morning, and he'd been mortified.

Blaise stirred his cup of tea. "I shouldn't have got so angry at you, Draco. I was just frustrated."

"It's alright." Draco smiled, and took a sip of his tea. Blaise made the best tea out of anyone, and that was a fact. 

"What you said wasn't true though, was it?" 

Draco felt his heartbeat speed up. "Uh, what?"

"About the chosen one. Having a crush on him, and all."

"Um, no. I didn't mean that. Like I said, I was very drunk," Draco said, forcing a laugh. 

_Fuck._

"Good. I know there aren't 'sides' anymore, but he's still kind of the enemy, isn't he?"

"I mean, yeah, I guess," Draco chewed his lip, looking for a way to send the conversation away from Potter. “Uh, anyway, is it cool if I crash on your couch tonight? I’m pretty sure Pansy took a girl back to our place and I don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll get you some blankets.”

-

_ “Hello, Minister!” Harry watched as Percy sent a jinx flying at a Death Eater. “Did I mention I’m resigning?” Fred grinned at Percy. _

_“You’re joking, Perce!” More spells flew, Harry, Ron and Hermione joining the fray. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-”_

_Harry saw Fred's body flying backwards before he was also thrown against the wall. _

_The ringing in his ears was insanely loud, his vision was white and blurry, he could just hear people shouting-_

_"Fred? Fred- no, no no no-" _

_Fred's body was crippled almost beyond recognition, his head twisted, his legs crooked, his eyes blank and staring. He made no resistance as Percy shook his body, sobbing._

_Then, all of a sudden, Fred’s body rose up, his head snapping up to look right at Harry._

_Harry was frozen. He couldn’t move as Fred’s mouth opened wide, and a voice that barely resembled Fred’s jovial tone echoed, “I died for you, Harry. You killed me.”_

_Fred’s mouth opened wider, and suddenly it was a dementor’s mouth, coming closer and closer, Harry could feel cold washing over him, he cried out- _

Harry sat up in bed, shaking, in a cold sweat. He was breathing fast, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it had been a dream. 

Ginny rolled over next to him, but didn’t wake up. Harry decided not to wake her, pulled on his slippers and a jersey, and tip-toed out their room.

He slowly opened the front door, and stood outside the Weasley’s house, breathing in the fresh country air. The stars were so clear there, unlike in London, where Venus was hardly visible some days.

He heard the door creak open behind him, and turned to see Hermione, in a purple dressing gown.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey.” Harry smiled awkwardly.

“Bad dream?” 

“Yeah.”

“Who was it this time?”

“Fred,” Harry said, his voice cracking. Hermione moved to stand next to him, and squeezed his hand. “You?”

“Bellatrix.”

They didn’t need to elaborate. The dreams were common, and they both knew what the other had gone through, what the other was still going through. It wasn’t a matter of saying, “I’m sorry, that’s awful,” it was simply a mutual understanding.

Harry paused. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it when nothing came out, took a deep breath, and managed to speak. “I’m sorry for… you know. Shouting at you. I know you were genuinely trying to help, and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Hermione smiled. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. And, besides,” her smile faltered, “you did say some things that were true.”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”

She looked up at the night sky. “Ron and I have been… well, it’s like before we started dating, again. Every little thing I say, he takes as a personal attack, and gets defensive. I don’t know how to get through to him. If I try and talk to him about it, he gets angry.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’m the best one to give you advice on that, Hermione.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to have a solution. It just helps to have someone to talk to.”

“Yeah.” He realised they were still holding hands, and gave hers a squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Hermione. We’ll figure it all out.”

“I hope so.” 

She pulled him into a hug, and he held her tight. 

“Is the offer to do my work for the weekend still on?”

“I’ve already started it.”

Harry laughed into her shoulder. “Of course you have. Thank you. You’re the best, Hermione.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.” She broke away from the hug, and looked directly into his eyes. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. And the same goes for you.”

“Of course. You’re my best friend, Harry. I love you.”

“I love you too, Hermione.”

In the distance, a blue streak painted the horizon. As it got closer, it was clear that it was a patronus. A lynx. Kingsley’s patronus.

The lynx approached them, and stopped before revealing its message.

_EMERGENCY. ALL AURORS MUST REPORT TO THE MINISTRY AT ONCE._

Hermione looked at Harry, terror in her eyes.  
Harry’s own heartbeat was considerably faster than he liked it. Panic began to set in. “C’mon. Let’s go get Ron.”

-

_EMERGENCY. ALL AURORS MUST REPORT TO THE MINISTRY AT ONCE._

Draco jumped awake, holding back a scream. He was on Blaise’s couch, and a silvery blue lynx was hovering before him.

“Wh-what?”

_EMERGENCY. ALL AURORS MUST REPORT TO THE MINISTRY AT ONCE._

The lynx repeated itself, then dissipated. 

Blaise stumbled out of his bedroom. “Draco? What’s happening?”

“I’ve got to go to work,” he said, jumping up and grabbing his clothes. “Thanks for letting me crash here, Blaise, I’ll see you sometime soon.” Draco pulled on his clothes from the previous night, cursing himself for not having anything more work-appropriate.

“Draco, what-” Blaise began, but Draco had already disapparated.

He materialised in the auror office, where Kingsley stood, along with most of the other aurors. He joined the group.

“Alright, I think everyone’s here,” Kinglsey said, as Dean Thomas joined them, “as you heard in my message, there is an emergency. I had hoped we would have completed more of your training before sending you out into the field, but we don’t have a choice.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ten muggles were murdered by one of our kind.”

A murmur went through the group, and Draco could almost feel his heart stop.

“Obliviators have already sorted out Muggle eye witnesses, and we want to keep this as quiet as possible. The Prophet can’t know about this. As far as anyone else knows, it’s a Muggle serial killer. It is _imperative_ that you do not tell anyone about this. The Ministry is already under enough fire from the public eye at the moment.” 

Whispers passed between the group, but they all quieted when Kingsley began to speak again.

“Right. We have 12 official aurors, and 23 trainees. Two trainees will be assigned to each senior member, based on your performance in training sessions so far. I’m going to be completely transparent - you all know roughly how well you’re doing - and start reading out lists of names from the pair with the worst performance so far. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, you’re with Reginald Illings.” Kingsley continued to rattle off names from his list. 

Draco glanced around. Most of the senior aurors had put on a facade of confidence, but the trainees all had the same expression of terror.

They were all thinking the same thing - what if You Know Who was back?”

“Hermione Granger and Anthony Goldstein, with Merriam Langsley. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, with Gawain Robards.” Kingsley folded up the piece of paper he had been reading from.

Draco felt his heart move into his mouth. 

_Fuck._ He had been paired with Potter.

He looked over, and Potter made eye contact with him. Neither of them had the usual look of mutual dislike, however. They both seemed to understand that the situation called for that to be put aside.

“You will now be debriefed by your senior aurors. Get into your groups.”

Draco moved over to where Robards was standing, and Potter joined them. 

“This is a very serious problem,” Robards began, “and as the Minister said, you must not tell anyone about this. You two are the most skilled out of all the trainees, so we will be doing a lot of the difficult field work. Our first job is to investigate past offenders who may have had something to do with this, or who may know something about this.” Robards paused, and then spoke in a quieter tone. “There is no evidence to suggest that this is… you know. Death Eaters. It’s most likely a couple of messed up people following his ideology. We’ll catch them soon enough.”

Draco and Harry both nodded, but Robard’s words weren’t enough to quell their fear.


	4. Investigating

Harry turned the pages of his brief, frowning. There were so many pages.

He couldn't even ask Hermione for help understanding them - they were under strict instructions not to share any of their work with other aurors. 

Ginny walked through the kitchen door, and Harry quickly closed the folder. "Don't worry, I'm not coming to have a look at your top secret work. Just want to say goodbye before you go off." 

Harry looked at the clock. He only had fifteen minutes left at home before he had to go out into the field with Malfoy and Robards. 

How had time gone so quickly?

Ginny sat down next to him. "My surgery date has been moved forwards," she said quietly, smiling.

Harry grinned. "Hey, that's great! Has your dad managed to get the loan out?" 

"Uh, he's struggling. But mum and dad both insist that everything's fine." 

"And they still won't let me help to pay for it?" 

Ginny laughed, and shook her head. "Not in a million years." 

Harry smiled, and took her hand. He had offered to pay, or at least contribute, as soon as Ginny had started talking about surgery, but as he had expected, the Weasleys had declined. 

Being trans in the wizarding world was actually fairly simple. Wizard healers had taken all the aspects of Muggle surgeries that worked, and applied them to a magical situation. That meant no scars, better results, better functionality. And hormones worked a lot faster. 

However, it wasn't covered by health-care. 

"I know I just said I wanted to spend a lot of time with you, but this is going to get in the way of that," Harry said, sighing. "I wish I could change it or explain why, but this job is really important."

"I know, Harry. It's okay."

"I'll be there for your surgery."

Ginny smiled, and nodded, squeezing his hand. 

He looked at the clock, and stood up. "Alright, I've gotta go. I'll see you as soon as possible." 

"Yeah. I love you. Bye," Ginny stood up too, kissing him.

"I love you too. Goodbye." 

And he apparated away. 

Inside the ministry, the morning bustle was already starting. Harry quickly made his way upstairs to the auror office, where Robards was waiting. "Harry. Morning," he said, taking a sip from his mug. "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Harry said, sitting down.

"You seen Draco?" Robards asked.

"Nope." 

"Ah. Speak of the devil. You're two minutes late, Draco. It's alright for now, but we need to be on time in future."

Harry turned, to see Malfoy walking towards them, looking incredibly tired. 

"Sorry. Won't happen again."

Robards nodded. "Alright. We're travelling by broom, because apparition at this distance and without properly knowing the destination is risky. Charm up your belongings and get on your brooms." 

Harry and Draco did so, not making eye contact. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, seeing his Nimbus 2001. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Malfoy's dad had bought Nimbus 2001s for the entire Slytherin team, before losing to Gryffindor anyway. Harry smiled, letting out a quiet chuckle.

"What?" Malfoy said, looking accusatory.

Harry looked at Malfoy. He noticed the bags under his eyes, how his hair was greasy and unkempt, his clothes scruffy. It was very unlike him. 

"Just remembering Quidditch," Harry said, nodding at Malfoy's broom.

"Oh." To Harry's surprise, Malfoy smiled. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

Harry felt himself smile back. "Yeah." He paused. "I miss it."

"Me too." 

They paused for a moment, both surprised by the mutual understanding they had reached. Then Harry caught himself, and continued to attach his bag to his broomstick.

-

Draco tried to focus on his broomstick, the air rushing through his hair, but he kept glancing over at Potter. 

Potter's hair was swept back, and he had the same blissful expression Draco remembered from school. It was the same way Draco had wanted to feel. 

He had always loved flying. It was something he had been good at, and not only that, it was something his father had encouraged and praised him for.

But, once he started going to Hogwarts, he had been constantly outclassed by Potter and the Gryffindors, even when his father had bought the most expensive brooms on the market for their whole team. 

Then, Quidditch had become like everything else - something he wasn't good enough at, something else for his father to pick at and yell at him for. 

_"You begged me to buy these for you, so you could get on the team, Draco. I put my_ faith _in you, I thought you were good enough to deserve those broomsticks. And yet, you let Harry Potter beat you. You're pathetic."_

_"I'm sorry father, I did my best-"_

_Lucius Malfoy slapped him. _

_"Your best isn't good enough then, Draco. You're a failure. First, you let a mudblood get better marks than you. Then, you let a boy raised by muggles who has never_ touched _ a broomstick in his life best you at Quidditch?"_

Draco snapped out of his own mind as Robards and Potter began to fly downwards. Potter let out a whoop of joy before plummeting directly downwards, going into a perfect swan dive. Draco followed him at a slightly safer and slower angle. 

Potter pulled out of the dive milliseconds before he would have crashed, perfectly executing the move. Draco didn't do so badly himself, dismounting his broom elegantly.

"Of course, I forgot I was flying with the youngest Seeker in a century," Robards said, giving Potter a pat on the back. Potter laughed. 

"Sorry, it's been so long since I've had a chance to fly like that - I couldn't help myself."

"It's quite alright, Potter, just remember we're doing serious work from now on." Robards chuckled fondly at Potter's almost childish innocence. It was something that had been almost completely lost since the battle. 

They removed their disillusionment charms, and headed down the hill towards a small farm. 

"Where are we?" Draco asked Robards.

"We are in the more rural parts of Essex, approaching a farm belonging to Rexell Parkinson," Robards responded, "which you would know if you had read your briefing."

Draco grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't have time."

"It's alright, Potter will fill you in." 

Potter nodded, and moved to walk in line with Draco. 

"So, back in the first uprising of Voldemort-" Draco tried to hide his flinch at the name- "Travis Parkinson and his wife, Leanna, were involved in a whole string of muggle killings. They were sympathisers with Voldemort, but never became Death Eaters. Travis and Leanna were put in Azkaban and died there a few years later, but their son Rexell is still alive and owns the farm. It was suspected that he was involved, too, but he was never prosecuted." 

Draco nodded. He had heard of the Parkinsons - they had been talked about amongst Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor. 

After a few more minutes, they reached the edge of the property. Robards stopped. 

"So, this is the first time you've done any field work. This kind of investigative stuff is usually fairly simple - they don't want to talk, and we don't have a warrant, so we're not allowed to force them to. However, it can go south very quickly, especially when we're dealing with offenders like the Parkinsons. Just follow my lead, and don't do anything stupid, and you'll be fine."

Harry and Draco both nodded, and followed Robards towards the farm house. 

Robards knocked on the door. They heard a dog start barking, and then footsteps. The door swung open, to reveal a middle aged man with greying hair, wearing a red flannel shirt and cargo shorts. 

"Hello?" He said, looking inquisitively at them. His eyes roamed over Robards, Draco, and then widened when they reached Potter.

"Mr Parkinson?" 

The man nodded, his eyes still fixated on Harry. 

"We're from the Ministry of Magic. If you don't mind, we have some questions for you?" 

"Uh," he said, but before he could continue, a gruff voice from behind him said, "Who is it, Rex?" And a short, stocky man with red hair and beard walked up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Robards was about to speak, but Parkinson gave him a look, and cut him off. "It's the police, Max. They just have some questions about the robberies that've been going on. Why don't you go finish up with the sheep, an' I'll answer their questions?" 

The other man nodded, and retreated from the hallway.

"My… my husband's a muggle, y'see. He don't know nothin' 'bout magic or anythin', an' I'd quite like it te stay that way, if yer don't mind." 

Robards nodded. "Of course, Mr Parkinson. May we come in?"

"Yes, you may. And please, call me Rex."

They followed Rex inside to his living room, where they seated themselves on his sofa. 

"A'ight, what's been goin' on that you all need me for?" 

Robards cleared his throat. “There have been some, er, _unfortunate_ attacks on muggles recently. We can’t disclose too much information, but it seems to the Ministry that there is a possibility that these attacks are being performed by some ex-Death Eaters, or copycats. We’re going round to all known offenders to try and figure out who might be behind them.”

Rex nodded, grimacing. “Ah. I see why you’d be comin’ te me, then.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I never knew what my parents was doin’. When they got taken to Azkaban an’ all, my aunt came an’ told me all that’d happened. I lived with her a few years, ‘til I was eighteen, then I came back to the farm.” He looked down at his hands. “After what they did… I swore I’d never use magic again. I settled down ‘ere, met my husband, and put all of those awful things behind me.”

Robards nodded curtly. “Alright, thank you, Rex. I’m sorry to have bothered you with all this. I just have one more question - can you think of anyone who could have been involved in this?”

Rex shook his head. “Sorry, but as I said, I’ve been living as a muggle. Haven’t spoken to another wizard in years.”

Robards reached into his robe and pulled out a card. “Well, if you think of anything, don’t hesitate to send an owl. Er, not that you use owls… well, I’m sure you can make a plan.”  
-

“Well, that was a complete dead end,” Harry sighed, slumping on the left hand side bed of the shitty motel they had rented. They were investigating a few more people in the area, so Robards had said it was best to stay there. Robards had his own room, while Harry had to share with Malfoy.

“Well, not completely. At least we’ve ruled out a suspect,” Malfoy said, quietly.

Harry sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess.” He watched Malfoy slowly put his bag down, and sit down on the other bed with a soft _ phlump. _ Harry turned his head to look at him.

“You alright?”

Malfoy looked surprised. “Uh, yeah. I’m… I’m fine.”

Harry looked back at the ceiling. There was a spot of mould. “I dunno. You’ve seemed… off. Recently. What with that and you being late for work, I figured… I dunno.”

“Ah. I got caught up… I stayed over at Blaise’s a couple nights ago and left some things there. Went to fetch them on the way.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He sat up, turning to face Malfoy. It was strange, the two of them having an amicable conversation, as though almost a decade of hatred and rivalry hadn’t happened. 

“I… I guess I haven’t been doing the greatest, at the moment,” Malfoy said, and Harry could tell he was deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

“Er,” Harry said, not really sure how to respond.

“Sorry. I’m fine, really. Just… work, you know?” Malfoy smiled, but Harry could tell he was hiding something.

Harry paused, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to help him. “Malfoy, I-”

There was a sharp knock at their door.

“Get some sleep, boys. We’re up early tomorrow.”


	5. A Curious Turn of Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's quite long... got carried away at the end :) enjoy!

A week or so passed with similar results. They would find the house, ask the person some questions, and find out absolutely nothing. Many of them, like Rex, had tried to hide their connection to the wizarding world. Others were simply trying to move past their past, and some seemed to have disappeared completely, their houses now owned by different people.

Finally, they got to their last house in the area. “Alright, boys,” Robards said, “final house. This one belongs to an Amyra Collins. Her parents were Death Eaters, and she apparently has ties with the Black family.”

Draco saw Potter perk up when he heard the word ‘Black’.

“She knew… Sirius?” Potter said tentatively.

“Well, that seems unlikely… I expect she was more familiar with the, er, rest of the Blacks,” Robards said, but he gave Potter a sympathetic smile.

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, that makes sense.” 

Draco frowned. He had never heard of Amyra Collins, nor any Death Eaters with that surname. Her parents must have died before He Who Must Not Be Named returned. 

They walked down a quaint, cobbled road for a few more minutes before arriving at a small cottage house. It looked like the opposite kind of place that one would expect to find dark magic and Muggle killings.

“Same drill as always, boys,” Robards sighed, and knocked on the door. 

They heard a scuffle from inside, a dog barking, and a voice yelled, “Coming, one second- down, boy!”

The door swung open to reveal a dishevelled woman with curly black hair, holding black a big, shaggy black dog that was barking excitedly. 

“Um, hello? Can I help you?”

“Er, yes,” Robards said, eyeing the dog, “are you Amyra Collins?”

“Yep, that’s me. And don’t worry about Padfoot here, he’s all bark and no bite.” 

“Padfoot?” Potter said, staring at the dog, his eyes lit up in hope.

“Yeah,” the woman said, frowning at him. 

“May we come in?” Robards said, “we’re from the Ministry of Magic. We have a couple of questions if you don’t mind?”

“Oh,” she said, “yeah, come on in.” 

She ushered them inside, and after Padfoot had finished licking them all out of excitement, he settled at Potter’s feet once they all sat down. 

“So, Ms Collins, I’m afraid we don’t come under the best terms,” Robards said.

“I figured. Not like a group of Aurors pops round just to have a cup of tea.”

Draco snorted. Robards and Potter looked at him quizzically, and he coughed in a lame attempt to hide his unprofessionalism. 

“Well, yes,” Robards continued, turning back to Collins. “I’m Robards, and this is Potter and Malfoy.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” she said, eyeing all of them. “What can I do for you? I’d like to make it quick, if you don’t mind. Got to take Padfoot for a walk before it gets dark.” 

Potter was staring at the dog.

“Yes, of course. Ms Collins, we can’t disclose too much detail, but there have been some attacks on Muggles recently that suggest the activity of those who were associated with You Know Who. Given the history of your parents, we wanted to know if you knew anything about these attacks?”

She sighed, and scratched Padfoot behind the ears.

“Listen, you might not believe me - most people didn’t - but I really had nothing to do with my parents. I despised them. I never met any of their friends, or talked to anyone they tried to introduce me to. I was in Slytherin, but I stayed away from the Death Eater wannabes. I had nothing to do with these attacks, I promise you. But,” she said, and paused, her eyes landing on Draco, “my parents kept journals. I got everything after they died; I’m their only child. I haven’t read all of the journals. The parts I did read made me sick. But you’re welcome to have a look at them. Maybe it’ll help you. I don’t know.”

“Thank you, Ms Collins, that would be perfect. Where are these journals?”

“Down the corridor, your last left. They’re in a cardboard box. Have a look and take whatever you want.”

-

“Can I stay and talk to Amyra?” Harry muttered to Robards.  
Robards nodded. “I’m sure Malfoy and myself can handle the journals, go ahead.”

Harry nodded, and turned back to Amyra. He waited for Robards and Malfoy to leave, and then said, “Your dog. It’s called Padfoot.”

She nodded. 

“Did you know… were you…” Harry struggled to find words. “Our case file said you have ‘ties to the Black family’. Were you friends with… with Sirius?”

Amyra smiled. “I was, yeah. Back at Hogwarts, we were in the same year. After I heard about his death, I found this little guy running around the neighbourhood.” She patted Padfoot’s head. “I figured it was a sign, y’know? It looks just like him.”

“You… you knew about…”

“Him being an animagus? Yeah.”

Harry stared at her. How had Sirius never talked about her, not even once? They must have been incredibly close if she knew about his animagus form. “He never mentioned you to me.” 

She shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s understandable. We became friends when Sirius and James were mad at each other, and James never really trusted me. I don’t blame him, really. My parents… my parents killed his uncle. And so many others. They were truly terrible people, and I wouldn’t have trusted me either.” She looked away for a moment, lost in thought, and then turned back to Harry. “Anyway, once Sirius and James stopped being mad at each other, it was difficult for us to stay friends, no matter how hard he tried to get James to like me. Then he disappeared for 12 years, and next thing I knew, I saw the news article about his death.”

Harry held onto her every word. He still felt such a strong sense of longing for every bit of information about his father, Sirius and Remus. 

“You remind me of him, you know.” 

“Of my father?”

“No. Of Sirius. You have that same fierce look of wanting to prove yourself. James was much more arrogant- he seemed to think he was already the best at everything, whereas Sirius felt like he was still fighting for it.” 

Harry felt something in his stomach. He couldn’t quite place a finger on the emotion. 

“Alright, Ms Collins, I think we’re going to need to take all of these journals, if you don’t mind.” Robards walked back into the room, Draco in tow.

“Please do. I don’t want them,” she said. Robards grinned.  
“Well, that’ll be all then, I’ll leave you to walking your dog. Come on, Potter, if we hurry, you’ll be home before midnight.”

“Harry, here,” Amyra said, and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Er, if you ever want to come over and walk Padfoot with me, I could use the company. It’d be nice to talk to someone about Sirius.”

Harry took the page. Phone number. It was unusual for witches and wizards of her age, especially purebloods, to use phones, but Harry was incredibly grateful for it. Phone calls were a lot quicker than owls. 

-

“Finally, you’re home, I’ve been eating instant noodles for the past two weeks.”

Draco couldn’t help smiling at Pansy. “Don’t be so dramatic, I was only gone ten days.”

“Yeah, and I can’t cook. We know this.” She gestured to the counter, where ten more packets of ramen were in a pile.

“Well, I’m tired and I don’t feel like cooking, so I guess we’re on ramen tonight too.”

Pansy groaned loudly. “Draaacoooo, just do a spell or something, please? Cooking with magic takes like, zero effort.”

“You do it then.”

She pouted. “You know I can’t. If I try and do it, our apartment will burn down.”

Draco sighed. “Fine. I’ll make some soup or something.”

“Thank you! You’re the best.” She hugged him, and pranced off to sit on her couch.

Draco waved his wand lazily, and some onions began to chop themselves up. He opened his bag, took out one of the journals from Amyra’s house, and began to read.

_28 March, 1965_

_Today, Lucius, Cassius and myself were given an important task by the Dark Lord. We are beginning to purge the world of scum. _

Draco felt something strange and sickening in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what he had expected - his father had been a Death Eater, of course he was involved - but he had never even heard of these Death Eaters before.

_We are headed up to Birmingham, to meet up with a group that call themselves the Purists. They share a similar vision to us, and are willing to co-ordinate their movements with ours. Strength in numbers, as the Dark Lord says. _

_Soon, the Muggles will be running, terrified of the unknown force that is killing them off._

Draco closed the journal. He waved his wand, and the onions tipped themselves into a pot along with some tomatoes and other ingredients. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the journal.

How had he never heard of these people before - Cassius Collins, the Purists… his father had never mentioned any of them, yet his name was on the first page of this journal. 

Draco began scanning the journals for more mentions of the Purists. The recent murders had taken place in Birmingham, too - there had to be a connection. 

-

The elevator door dinged, and Harry stepped out. He needed to get some files from his desk before heading home.

“Potter!” He turned around to see Robards waving him down. “I was hoping to catch you here- can I have a word?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry replied, confused.

“Good, good, come into my office.” Robards gestured at a door, and Harry opened it, Robards following behind him. “Go on, have a seat! You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.” The old man smiled, an endearing expression on his face, which seemed to be more lined with worry than usual.

“Before we get down to business, I just wanted to say good work for the past ten days, Potter. I know everything’s rather rushed at the moment, but you are handling it very well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, to business. When we were looking through those journals, there was a lot of mention of Lucius Malfoy. Now, I know Draco has been cleared and everything, by your endorsement - and this isn’t to say I don’t trust you, not at all! I’m just a bit, erm, skeptical.”

Harry frowned at Robards, and chewed his lip. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“I think we’d all just feel a bit more comfortable if someone was to be, erm, keeping an eye on him, so to speak.”

“Are you asking me to spy on him?”  
“No, not at all! I don’t want you going out of your way or anything, Potter, no no no. Just be a bit more… aware of his actions, and make sure nothing, erm, suspicious is going on.”

Harry thought for a moment. He couldn’t believe Malfoy would be involved in anything - he had been a Death Eater, but he had been forced into it… 

“Yes, sir, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Robards smiled broadly. “There we go, knew I could count on you, Potter! Alright, I won’t keep you any longer - get back home and get a good night’s sleep.”

Harry nodded, and left Robards’ room, heading back to his desk to fetch some of his paperwork.

As he passed Malfoy’s desk, something made him stop. 

In the back of his mind, something was telling him to look. He tried to fight the urge, knowing that it was wrong, but after what he had just been asked to do…

Harry looked around, to make sure there was no one else there, and began looking at Malfoy’s desk.

Most of it was what you would expect - paperwork, case files, etcetera. Harry opened the top draw of the desk, and looked around. More of the same - spare quills and ink, parchment paper.

Harry tried to open the second draw down, but it was locked.

“Alohamora,” he whispered, and the lock clicked. 

There were only a few things in the drawer. A journal, a few letters tied together, and a very expensive looking quill and ink set.

Harry opened the journal. Every page was blank. For a moment, he thought of trying to write in it to see if it responded like Riddle’s had, but realised that it was probably implausible for Malfoy to have died and hidden his memory inside a diary while still having a physical form. It was probably in invisible ink.

Damnit, why didn’t he listen to Hermione more often? She would know the spell for it to reveal its writing.

Harry put down the journal, and opened the letter.

_Dearest Draco,_

_We are only allowed to send one letter every three months, so see this as an early birthday present. Your father and I wish you the best for this year, and we have asked the Ministry to send you Lucius’ old quill that writes in invisible ink. Lucius said that it has been rather useful to him over the years. I know that you will make good use of it, too. _

_Aside from that, there isn’t any news from our side, except that a few more Death Eaters have died here, although I’m sure you’ve read that in the Prophet. There’s rumours going around that some of the guards are killing them, or that one of the Death Eaters is killing their own kind, but I’m not convinced. It’s most likely that they just gave up. It isn’t easy here._

_I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to write back, but know that we love you very much, and we are so, so proud of you._

_Lots of love,  
Narcissa & Lucius_

Harry frowned, and opened the next letter. The handwriting was messier than the first, and it was shorter. Some of the ink was blurred, as though it had gotten wet.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I hope you are doing well. Lucius and I are so proud of you._

_I’m scared, Draco. The dementors keep making me think about the Dark Lord, and Lucius. I’m so scared. I think Lucius is going mad. He keeps pacing up and down his cell, and then shouting for no reason. He keeps asking me to comfort him, but I can’t leave my cell. _

_I love you, Draco._

_Lots of love,  
Narcissa & Lucius_

Harry felt his heartbeat speeding up, but he looked at the next letter. The handwriting was even more messy, and the sentences even more incoherent.

_Dearest Draco,_

_Lucius keeps getting angrier and angrier. He shouted at the dementors, and they all crowded around his cell for hours. I couldn’t see him, they were all there, he was screaming and crying and he wouldn’t move for days afterwards and I’m scared that they’re going to do the same thing to me, Draco you have to help us, please_

_Lots of love,  
Narcissa and Lucius_

Harry felt something cold wash over him as he started to read the final letter.

_Dearest Draco,  
Lucius tried to get out. They hurt him very badly. He tried to blame it on me, and they hurt him even more. I don’t know how much longer I can go on._

_Lots of love,  
Narcissa_

Harry put the letters back.

The last letter had been dated four months ago, and if they were allowed to send letters every three months… 

He left the room, feeling sick, and had to remind himself that Lucius and Narcissa deserved Azkaban. They were evil. They had been Death Eaters.

They deserved it.

Didn’t they?


	6. Red and Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: 
> 
> descriptions of blood/gore/violence/death

“Malfoy’s up to something,” Harry said, pacing up and down.

“Harry,” Hermione began tentatively, “how many times did you think Malfoy was behind all those schemes at Hogwarts? And how many times was he actually not involved at all?”

Harry stopped pacing and scowled at her. “I was right the last time. He was a Death Eater.” 

“Mate, that’s what I’m confused about,” Ron said, scratching his head, “you spent ages convincing us that Malfoy’s turned over a new leaf or whatever, and now you think he’s involved in the shit that’s going on now?”

“Well, Robards was the one who suggested that part,” Harry said, “I don’t know if I believe that. I just think there’s something fishy about him having a journal full of invisible ink in a locked drawer with letters from his Death Eater mother saying that Lucius Malfoy tried to break out of prison.”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know, Harry. It just sounds like that’s his private stuff.”

Harry scowled, and looked out the window. It was a bright, sunny day, and they were all holed up in Harry’s room. He had called them there to tell them about everything that had happened on his trip.

“Well, sounds like your week was way more interesting than ours, anyway,” Ron muttered.

Hermione huffed, and rolled her eyes. “Ron, just because we didn’t meet one of Sirius’ old friends or anything doesn’t mean our work wasn’t valuable-”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t valuable. Just said it was boring.” 

“Fine, whatever.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re actually agreeing with me.”

“I just know it’s pointless to argue with you.”

“What’s that supposed to-”

“Will you two just shut up?” Harry snapped, slamming his fist down on the desk. “We hardly ever see each other anymore. And when we do, all you do is fight. I know it’s hard right now, but can’t we just… go back to old times?” 

Neither of them made eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

There was a knock at the door, and Ginny poked her head around.

“Hey, Harry, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Harry nodded, and got up, following her back to her bedroom.

“So what’s up?” Harry asked as Ginny closed the door.

She sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Mum and Dad are selling the house.”

Harry stared at her for a second. “What? Why?”

“I overheard them talking about it last night. They didn’t explicitly say it, but I’m pretty sure it’s for my surgery. They were saying… well, I’m the only kid still at school, so once you guys move out, they don’t need such a big house anymore. They’ll get a small cottage somewhere in this area instead, and…” Ginny sat down on the bed, and put her head in her hands. Harry sat next to her.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, Ginny.”

She looked up, and tears had begun to run down her face. “I just… I just feel so guilty. My transition has been so expensive, and Mum and Dad just insist that everything’s fine.” She wiped some of the tears away and sniffed. “It makes me wish I wasn’t trans. I feel like I can’t put Mum and Dad through this, but I also know that I _need_ this surgery.”

Harry put his arm around her shoulders. “I know it’s hard. I wish they’d let me help pay for it, I wish the wizarding world had a better healthcare system, I wish everything was easier, but sometimes things just aren’t. Your parents love you, Ginny, that’s obvious. We all love you. They’d only be doing this if they were sure it was the right decision.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Harry.”

“And hey, it’s not all bad. Hermione’s been begging me and Ron to move out for ages, because it’s important to be independent or something. At least she’ll get off our backs.”

Ginny laughed, and blew her nose.

“Just… don’t tell the others yet, okay? I don’t think Mum and Dad want you to think they’re kicking you out or anything.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll just say I think Hermione’s right about moving out or something, and we’ll start looking for places.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Of course.”

He kissed her, and her tears mingling with the kiss suddenly reminded him of a time many years ago when he’d kissed a different girl after she’d been crying.

There was a knock at the door. He heard Hermione’s voice calling his name. “Harry!”

“Yeah?”

She opened the door, and behind her stood Ron. Both of them looked very pale.

“Someone’s been killed, Harry. We’re all needed at work.”

-

Draco rushed into the Ministry, sleep deprived and functioning only because of coffee, which seemed to be a common occurrence. He ended up standing just apart from Potter, Granger and Weasley, next to Longbottom.

“Alright, everyone here?” Robards called out.

“Still waiting for Hannah Abbott,” someone said.

Robards sighed, and shook his head. “Well, there’s no time. As you heard from the patronus message, there’s been a murder. One of us, and one muggle. It’s one of the people we were investigating about the Muggle killings.” Draco felt something cold wash over him. “Rexell and Max Parkinson.”

Draco’s heart jumped to his mouth.

_No._

Why them? 

“Okay, Granger, Goldstein, Potter and Malfoy - with me and Langsley. We’re going to the scene of the crime to have a closer look and scare off the Muggle authorities. The rest of your report to your superior officers, they’ll tell you what to do.”

The crowd dispersed, and Draco followed Granger and Potter over to where Robards was standing. They were quickly joined by Goldstein.

“Okay, we need to get there as quickly as possible, so we’re going to need to apparate, even though it’s risky - it’s a long distance. Granger and Goldstein, since you haven’t been before, you can hold on to me and Langsley, we’ll take you. Potter and Malfoy, I trust you’ll be able to apparate there on your own.” He paused, and looked at them all. “This is serious. The only time murders like this have happened have been when You Know Who or Grindelwald were at large. We don’t want another dark wizard rising up.” They all nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”

Granger held on to Robards’ arm, and Goldstein onto Langsley’s, and they disapparated. Draco looked over at Potter. “Well, good luck,” Potter said, and vanished. Draco closed his eyes, pictured the farm in his mind, and turned on the spot.

He felt the familiar feeling of his air being pushed out of his lungs, and his whole body being compressed, before the feeling stopped, and he opened his eyes.

The sun was just beginning to rise, sending golden light over the farm, which was interrupted by the red and blue flashing of the police vehicles. “Police are already there,” Robards muttered. He began to run towards the farmhouse, and the rest of them followed.

As they arrived, Robards pulled a wallet out of his pocket, which contained a piece of blank paper. He held it up as they approached the police standing outside. “MI5, we’re investigating a string of murders similar to this one. We’ll take over from here.”

The policeman looked puzzled for a second, but as he looked at the paper, his eyes appeared to glaze over. He nodded, and called his men over, letting Robards and the rest of them walk inside.

The scene inside was brutal. Both Rex and Max’s bodies lay almost indistinguishable from each other on the ground, covered in blood and torn apart. They hadn’t just been killed with Avada Kedavra. They had been practically torn apart.

And, across the wall, written messily in blood, someone had painted the word ‘TRAITOR’.

Granger made a noise in the back of her throat as she saw the bodies, which was mimicked by Goldstein, who looked like he was going to throw up. Robards and Langsley looked grimly onwards. Potter had a twisted expression on his face - it was somewhere between intense sadness and rage. 

Draco felt as though he was dreaming. He almost felt as though he was floating, observing the scene, but not corporeal. 

They all stood for a moment, frozen in the horror of the scene, until Robards broke the silence.

“Come on, let’s get to work.”

Everyone dispersed, looking around the room. Granger pulled out her wand and started muttering spells to reveal anything hidden. Potter began opening drawers at random, ruffling through the papers inside them. Robards and Langsley bent down over the bodies, using their wands to find traces of magic. Goldstein took out a notepad and began writing on it.   
Draco paused, his eyes wandering over the room. He was trying to ignore the dead bodies of Rex and Max, which proved to be quite difficult when their blood was strewn all over the room.

Avoiding as much of the blood as possible, Draco stepped around the bodies and moved to the next room. 

He had walked into the kitchen, where a frying pan stood with half cooked scrambled eggs. 

There was a noise behind him. Draco pulled out his wand and spun around-

To see the dog flap on the back door of the kitchen clatter open.

A large, shaggy dog bounded into the room and collided with Draco. He yelped, and was pushed onto the floor by the dog, which proceeded to lick his face. 

The kitchen door swung open, and Potter ran in, followed by the others.

“We heard a noise, is everything okay-” Potter was cut off by the delighted barks of the dog, who removed itself from Draco and began to bound around the room in happy circles, before jumping back to Draco, who put out a tentative hand to scratch the dog behind the ears. It closed its eyes and started panting.

“Er,” Draco said, awkwardly standing up (to the dog’s dismay), “it came in through the dog flap and tackled me.”

Potter stepped forward, and looked at the tag around the dog’s neck. “Leo,” he said, and patted the dog, “he’s a St Bernard.” 

“Must have belonged to them,” Langsley said.

“What’re we going to do with him?” Potter asked, still petting Leo.

“Well, neither Rex nor Max had any relatives, so… I suppose we’ll have to send him to a shelter,” Robards said. 

“Can I keep him?” Draco asked, before he could catch himself. 

Everyone stared at him.

“Sorry, I just… want to make sure he’s looked after. I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t see why not…” Robards shrugged. “Finish investigating the house and then... I suppose you’ll have to apparate with him.” 

Draco nodded thanks. Potter gave him a quizzical look, before returning to the living room.

“Stay, boy. We’ll get out of here soon,” Draco told Leo. He barked happily, and licked Draco’s hand. Draco couldn’t help but smile.

Pansy was going to freak out, though. 

She was definitely a cat person.


	7. Made of Nightmares

_Harry smiled, scratching Padfoot behind the ears. Amyra set down two cups of tea, and laughed as Padfoot licked her hand. She smiled at Harry, peacefully._

_Then, Padfoot began to grow and transform. He stretched upwards, his fur receding until Sirius stood where he had been. Harry grinned, and reached out to hug Sirius, but his arms went right through him. _

_Sirius was staring at Harry with cold, blank eyes, and then he was falling, falling, backwards, through the veil, through the archway, and he was gone-_

_Bellatrix crawled through the veil, her wand outstretched, and suddenly there was blood everywhere, coating the walls. Rexell and Max's bodies lay on the floor, mangled, with their blood painting 'TRAITOR' on the walls, and then Amyra was on the floor, too, bleeding out, her arm twisted in the wrong direction, she was dead, she was dead, dead, dead, dead-_

Harry bolted upright in bed, sweating. 

Amyra.

Without thinking, he quietly pulled on a robe and shoes, careful not to wake Ginny, and crept out the door. 

He slipped outside into the cold night, and turned on the spot.

After a few seconds of discomfort, he appeared, outside Amyra's house. Apparating that distance had been risky. But he needed to help Amyra.

He knocked on her door, loudly. "Amyra?" He called, and he heard Padfoot bark. "Amyra!" He knocked again. After a few more seconds, the door swung open, and Amyra stood there in a dressing gown. 

Harry hugged her, tightly, feeling relief wash over him.

"Well, when I said you could pop around anytime for a cup of tea, I didn't exactly mean in the middle of the night, kiddo," she said. 

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking away from the hug. Padfoot barked happily, and started licking Harry's hand.

"It's okay. Come on, inside before the neighbours start rioting about Padfoot's barking again." 

Harry nodded, and followed her inside.

Amyra gestured to her couch, and Harry sat as she waved her wand in the general direction of the kettle, which started to boil. 

She sat across from him, and raised an eyebrow. "So, what brings you to my house in the middle of the night?"

"I, uh," Harry trailed off, realising how stupid his reasoning sounded, "I had a dream that you had been hurt." He avoided her skeptical gaze. "There was a couple that we interviewed before you about the Muggle killings that were murdered a few days ago. I got paranoid."

"No offence, Harry, but dreams aren't exactly reliable sources of information," she said, standing up as the kettle started to whistle, and pouring some tea.

"I know. But when Voldemort was at large…" Amyra flinched slightly at his name, "I used to get these… visions… in my dreams. They were real, at first, until Voldemort started using them to manipulate me." Harry frowned, and took the cup of tea Amyra handed him. "There was one…" 

Harry stared at the surface of the liquid.

"I saw Sirius being hurt. So I went after him. The vision wasn't real, Voldemort was using it to draw me out. But because I went after him, everyone had to come and rescue me, and Sirius died anyway. Trying to rescue me."

Amyra nodded, and sipped her tea.

"I guess I thought… Well, I didn't really think. I woke up, and I figured that if I got here soon enough, I could save you. Even though I know that my dreams are just… just dreams." 

"It's alright, kiddo," she said, "thank you for coming to make sure I was okay. I can tell you with full confidence that Sirius would have done the same thing." 

Harry smiled, and finally made eye contact with her. "I still don't understand why Sirius never mentioned you to me."

Amyra's smile became pained. "Well, while Sirius and I were good friends, I'm afraid your dad didn't feel the same way."

Harry stared at her, confused. "What? Why?" 

Amyra sighed, and stirred her tea. "Like I said when you first visited, I was in Slytherin." 

"Oh." 

"Yep. And it didn't help that my parents were Death Eaters who killed your great uncle."

Harry tried to think of an appropriate response, but it felt like his brain was wading through hardening concrete. 

"...oh."

"I don't blame your dad for not liking me, but he was a bit of a dick."

Harry nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea.

Amyra sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, these probably aren't the anecdotes you want to be hearing about your father."

"No, it's okay. I mean… yeah." Harry shrugged. "I know about how much of an asshole he and Sirius were to Snape."

"What, Severus?" She laughed bitterly. "That asshole definitely deserved it."

"What?" Harry frowned, "I mean, he was awful when he was my teacher, but he… Dumbledore trusted him…" Harry trailed off. 

Amyra scoffed. "Oh, Dumbledore had a thing for broken people." She stirred her tea and sighed. "Listen, Harry… Dumbledore wasn't exactly a good person. He used and manipulated people that he could take advantage of. Severus Snape was one of them, once Lily married James. Remus Lupin was also one of them. You were too, Harry."

Harry stood up, anger coursing through his blood. "What would you know about Dumbledore!? He wasn't- he didn't- he was a _good person!"_

Amyra shrugged. "Whatever you want to believe, kiddo." 

"No. I'm not… I'm not…" Harry put his head in his hands. The last time he had felt this kind of anger, this _uncontrollable_ anger, had been… Dumbledore's office… Dumbledore… 

"I have to go. I have to…" Harry disapparated, and suddenly he was outside the Burrow again, in the garden, but his head was splitting open in agony, his scar, his scar- 

_Harry was on the roof of the astronomy tower. Hidden under the cloak. Malfoy's wand was pointed at Dumbledore, who had been disarmed. _

_"Do it, Draco," someone hissed, one of the cloaked Death Eaters crowding around him. Snape was there, too, next to Malfoy._

_“We’ve got a problem,” muttered another one, “the boy doesn’t seem able…”_

_“Do it.”_

_“Do it!”_

_Harry couldn’t tell who was saying what. The crowd of Death Eaters was growing, larger and larger, and they were all chanting at Malfoy, “DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!”_

_Then Malfoy began to grow taller. His hair grew, too, and turned greasy and black, and his nose elongated, and suddenly Snape was standing there, wand pointed at Dumbledore. “I’ll so it,” he snarled, and Dumbledore stretched out a hand towards Snape, pleading-_

_“Severus, please, don’t kill me, Harry stop him, Harry, don’t let him-”_

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Harry! Harry, what’s wrong!?”

Hermione was shaking his shoulders, Ron and Ginny standing around him too.

“I… Dumbledore…” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair.

“What?” Hermione said, frowning.

“I’m fine. I just… I’m _fine.”_

“Mate, I dunno what happened, but you don’t look ‘fine’ to me,” Ron said.

Harry stood up. “I must’ve just had a bad apparition. Passed out.”

Ginny stared at him, not saying a word.

“Harry, I… are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine, Hermione.” He shrugged her hand off. 

He couldn’t tell them. They’d think he was crazy.

_“So, no big deal, but I’ve been having these flashbacks and dreams of people I love dying.”_

Yeah. No way.

-

“Draco, this apartment has a very strict no pets rule. How the hell are we going to keep him here?”

“We’ll cover up our tracks! Please, Pansy. They didn’t have any family members that the dog could go to. He would have just sat in a rescue centre for the rest of his life.”

Pansy folded her arms, and stared at Leo. He barked happily. “He’s not exactly _quiet.”_

Draco pointed his wand at Leo. “Silencio.”

Leo opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Unperturbed, he silently barked again, and then licked Draco’s hand.

Pansy threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Fine! But if we get caught, you’re dealing with all the consequences. And if he puts so much as _one paw_ in my bedroom, there’ll be trouble. And I’m not paying for his food or anything, either.”

Draco grinned. “Thank you. Love you, Pansy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Love you too, dumbass.” She walked towards the kitchen. “Leftovers for supper. You wanna watch something?”

Draco sighed. “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got work to do.”

“Alright, have fun. But just so you know, I’m watching Drag Race.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Draco said, with a small smile, walking into his bedroom. He sat down at his desk, and opened one of the boxes containing all of the Collins’ journals. He had told Robards his findings about the ‘Purists’, and had been ordered to further investigate.

After a few hours of flipping through various journals, he began to feel frustrated. There were many more mentions of the Purists, but nothing that led them anywhere - only ramblings about how they were ridding the world of evil, and who they were targeting next. He took note of all the names of victims they mentioned, just in case.

Something from January 1974 caught his attention. 

_The Dark Lord is asking us to stop the Purification. He says that we are drawing too much attention to ourselves. He doesn’t understand, this is the only way forwards. We’re going to kill one of the worst Blood Traitors. Abraham Potter._

Potter. That must be Harry’s great uncle, the auror.

Draco skipped forward a few entries.

_January 21st, 1974_

_The Dark Lord is angry. He says we disobeyed him. We just wanted to prove ourselves. We have to go further, purify more._

“Draco, are you gonna eat anytime soon? It’s almost midnight.”

Draco jerked upright from where he had been bent over the journals. “Uh, yeah,” he called back to Pansy.

“There’s some of that stir fry you made, I left it in the microwave for you. Night.”

“Thanks. Night, Pansy.”

Draco sighed, and closed the journal. He was beginning to feel his eyes droop, but he hadn’t made any headway with the case yet. He stood up. Food would do him good.

Their apartment was always eerie at this time of night, even with the lights on. He made his way towards the microwave, and turned it on. 

The Purists had to be connected to the recent murders. It was too much of a coincidence. But both the Collins had been arrested and had died in Azkaban years ago, and Amyra hadn’t seemed suspicious… who else had been involved?

The only other name he had seen mentioned was his father.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_

Draco jumped, and turned around to the window. An owl was tapping on it from outside. He took a deep breath to calm his heartbeat, and opened the window.

He felt his heart twist when he recognised the seal on the letter.

It was from Azkaban.

Trembling, Draco slit open the letter. It was stained with tears, and almost illegible, but only one word had been written.

Squinting, Draco just managed to make out the word.

_Help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, I had writer's block :/ hopefully the update speed will pick up soon!


	8. Dinner Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of child abuse that may be troubling to some readers.

Harry stopped in front of the apartment block.

"... Anthony's sweet, but he's honestly a bit useless. He just copies whatever other people- Harry?" Hermione stopped her ramble about work when she noticed he had stopped.

"Alright, mate?" Ron said, frowning.

Harry turned back to them. "Oh, nothing." 

Ginny's words echoed in his mind.

_“Just… don’t tell the others yet, okay? I don’t think Mum and Dad want you to think they’re kicking you out or anything.”_

Yeah. That should be easy enough. Just convince them that he'd suddenly had a change of heart, and moving out was a good idea. Not suspicious at all.

"Just… that apartment looks… pretty nice."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me Hermione's wrangled you into moving out, too?"

"Well," Harry said, panicking slightly, "I just think… maybe it's about time, you know? Independence, and all that."

"Yes, exactly!" Hermione said, "Come on, let's go have a look at the apartment!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine! We'll just look, right?"

"Yes, yes, we'll just look- Harry, I'm so glad you came round- come on!" 

She dragged them both inside.

“So? What do you guys think?”

“It’s, uh, it’s nice,” Harry said, noncommittally. He didn’t know the first thing about finding an apartment.

“It’s really nice,” Hermione said, beaming. 

Ron shrugged, and went over to the kitchen.

“And I was speaking to the agent who showed us in. The price is very affordable, especially split three ways,” she continued, “so we should definitely keep this in the back of our minds. But I’ll pick up some catalogues and we can go look at some other places too!”

“Why don’t we just take this one?” Harry said, opening a door to a bedroom. “Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, lounge-slash-dining room. And it’s close to work.”

“Well, it is very nice, but it’s important to look at other options too-”

“I’m with Harry,” Ron said, walking back to them with his arms folded, “I don’t really feel like trekking all over London looking at other apartments when this one is perfectly good.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Hermione bit her lip. Ron kept his arms folded, staring at her. “You know what? Fine. Let’s just go with this one.” She moved her eyes away from Ron.

The tension was palpable.

Harry tried to diffuse the situation.

“Great! Fantastic. Let’s go talk to the agent, and uh… why don’t we have a sort of house-warming thing?”

“What, like a dinner party?” Hermione said.

“Seriously?” Ron muttered, just loud enough that Harry and Hermione could hear him.

“It’ll be fun, Ron,” Harry said, “we’ll just invite whoever’s at the Burrow.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Great, I’m really looking forwards to Mum and Percy telling us what a terrible decision we’ve made.”

“C’mon mate, they won’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s just do it tomorrow and get it over with.”

-

“This was a terrible decision, Pansy,” Draco groaned, twisting around to try and see the back of his dress robes. “I haven’t worn these things since Slughorn’s parties in sixth year.”

“They look fine, Draco,” Pansy sighed, applying lipstick, “better than fine. Great. Fantastic. Fabulous.”

“That’s pushing it,” he scowled, and sighed, turning to face her. “I can’t believe you roped me into this.”

“It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

“It feels weird. I only just made peace with Blaise, and I haven’t even met any of his new work friends.”  
“They’re lovely people, Draco, you’ll get on just fine. Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Draco pulled a comb through his hair one last time, and they disapparated. 

Blaise had inherited his parents’ house. Similarly to Malfoy Manor, it was a huge, sprawling place on top of an isolated hill. 

It almost gave Draco chills. 

“Come on,” Pansy said, grabbing his arm. They began the walk up to the mansion, along the winding path.

“We should have apparated closer,” Draco grumbled.

“That’s rude, Draco, you of all people should know that.”

They finally reached the large, oak, doors, and Pansy pressed the doorbell. They heard it echoing through the house. 

The doors swung open, and Blaise stood there in magnificent blue dress robes lined with silver thread. 

Draco adjusted his old green robes self-consciously. 

“Pansy, Draco - so glad you could make it!” He said, arms spread wide. He pulled them each into embraces. “Draco, you look just like when we used to go to Sluggy’s parties back in the day.”

Draco glared at Pansy, who rolled her eyes.

“Oh, no, it was meant to be a compliment, Draco - I’m actually planning to make these dinner parties a monthly thing; a little throw-back to our days at Hogwarts.”

Draco nodded, and followed Blaise inside. 

The entrance hall was decked with floating candles, leading into a large lounge. Draco was surprised to see that he recognised about half of the people sitting there - old Slytherins. Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott and Tracy Davis were all there, along with some from other grades, including Astoria, Daphne’s sister.

The others he didn’t recognise were presumably Blaise’s work friends - Arithmancers.

“Come, sit down,” Blaise said, gesturing to the sofa. Pansy sat, and Draco next to her. 

“Blaise, we were just saying how good the food is smelling,” Millicent crooned as Blaise took his seat next to her. 

“Ah, thank you - our house elf has always been fantastic.”

“Rare to have a house elf, these days,” Theodore noted, looking a little jealous.

“Yes, quite - Nollit’s been in our family for decades, though. They can only forcibly free house elves if they want to go, and we’ve always treated her well enough that she wants to stay.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably.

“Um, Blaise, where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hallway, last door on your left.”

Draco nodded thanks, and began walking to the bathroom.

He locked the door, and slumped against it, running his hands through his hair.

He shouldn’t have come. Everything about this was reminding him of his parents, of school, of the Dark Lord… 

Blaise, and his house elf. Nollit. What did ‘treating her well enough’ mean? The way they had treated Dobby had been considered a norm for house elves… 

_“Draco, do it. He disrespected you. Punish him.”_

_“I’m sorry, Master Draco, I didn’t mean to-”_

_“Quiet!” _

_Draco’s father shook Dobby roughly, holding him by the scruff of his neck. Dobby whimpered._

_Draco looked away, feeling the familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. _

_“Draco,” Lucius hissed, “do I have to tell you again?”_

_“Lucius, he’s just a boy-”_

_“He’s old enough to learn about punishment, Narcissa. Draco, hit the elf.”_

_“I won’t!” Draco yelled, suddenly, not sure what came over him. _

_“What did you say?” Asked Lucius, his voice cold and stony._

_“I… I won’t hit Dobby,” Draco said, his voice shaking._

_Lucius dropped the elf. “You listen to me, boy,” he snarled, “you need to learn what happens when you disobey me.”_

_Draco felt a tear slide down his cheek, his whole body trembling. _

_His father slapped his cheek._

_“Don’t cry, Draco. You aren’t a girl.”_

_Another slap._

_“Lucius, that’s enough-”_

_Slap._

_“It’s enough-” _

_Slap._

_“When I say-”_

_Slap._

_“It’s enough!”_

_Slap._

_Draco cried out on the last one, his hands reflexively holding his cheek where Lucius had hit him. _

_“Lucius!” Draco’s mother grabbed his arm, and as he turned to brush her off, Draco ran._

_“Come back here, boy-”_

“Draco? Are you okay in there? It’s been a while…” 

Draco snapped his head up at Pansy’s voice. 

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine…” Draco trailed off, surprised to feel tears on his face. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be out soon.”

She paused. “Okay.” 

After her footsteps had retreated, he took a long, shaky breath and splashed cold water on his face.

_I’m okay. It’s okay. I’m okay._

-

"Ron, what's the time?"

"Six."

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears frantically.

"Oh, for Merlin's- Harry, check the lasagne, please."

Harry opened the oven. "Uh, I think it's ready?"

"Great take it out- oh, fuck-" she had tried to open a packet of peas, only for it to spill everywhere. 

Harry removed the lasagne from the oven.

Hermione muttered an incantation, and the peas picked themselves up and decanted into a pot of boiling water.

"Okay. Okay! The salad's almost ready, the lasagne's done, the pudding is in the fridge."

"This is going to be a disaster," Ron muttered.

"Ronald, maybe if you actually helped instead of just standing there and making snide comments-"

"I was just avoiding you yelling at me for putting the oven on the wrong temperature or something," Ron shrugged.

Hermione took a deep breath, and turned away from Ron as the doorbell rang.

"Oh, they're here- Ron, please go and let them in."

"Are you sure I won't break the door or something? Apparently I can't do anything right-"

"For fuck's sake- Harry, please go and let everyone in." 

Harry nodded and moved towards the door, away from Hermione's wrath.

"Harry, hi!" Mrs Weasley said, bustling in, "I know you said not to bring anything, but we got some crackers and dips just in case."

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," he said, smiling and taking her offering of food. Ginny followed close behind.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He kissed her, and she went inside.

Mr Weasley was next, followed by George and Percy.

“Harry! Hope you’re doing well?” Mr Weasley smiled.

“Alright, Harry? Nice place you got here,” George said, winking.

“Harry. Good to see you.” Percy opted, as usual, for an overly formal handshake. 

Harry showed them all to the table, where Hermione was standing, her hair frizzier than usual, the salad and lasagne next to her.

“Hi everyone! Just took the lasagne out the oven…”

Ginny touched Harry’s arm, and he turned to face her.

“Nice place.”

“Yeah. First one we found.”

She laughed. “Hermione can’t have been too happy about that.”

“Yeah, I think she just didn’t want to fight with Ron anymore.”

Ginny nodded, looking over to Ron. He was standing next to Hermione, arms folded, frowning.

“Anyway. Thanks, Harry. I think Mum and Dad are going to sell the house now, and… well, everything’s going to be a lot easier.”

Harry smiled, and kissed her again. 

“Oi, you lovebirds going to join us?” George teased. Harry blushed, and Ginny rolled her eyes. They sat next to Ron and Hermione, and got started on the food.

“So,” Mrs Weasley began, “Arthur and I have an announcement to make.”  
Harry looked sideways at Ginny, and she smiled. 

“We’ve talked about it a lot, and since the three of you have moved out, we don’t need the space anymore. We’re selling the house.” 

Everyone at the table exclaimed.

“What?”

“You’re not serious-”

“But the house-”

“Who’s going to buy it?”

“Yes, yes, alright,” Mr Weasley said, and everyone quieted down, “we’ve already found a buyer - a nice big wizarding family, similar to ours. I’m sure they’ll make good use of it. We’re going to move into a smaller cottage in Godric’s Hollow, right around other wizarding folk. Of course, you’ll be welcome to visit us still - we just won’t have as much space.”

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Percy said, nodding solemnly, inciting a murmur of agreement.

Ron stood up. “I don’t think you should do it.”

Everyone went quiet.

Mrs Weasley was the first to speak. “Ron, I know this is a big change, but-”

“That’s not what- I don’t want to- nevermind. I’m just going to…” he looked around, his face flushed red. “I’m not hungry.” He walked into his bedroom.

Ginny nudged Harry, and jerked her head in the general direction of Ron and Hermione’s bedroom.

Hermione sighed. “I suppose I should go and talk to him…”

Ginny nudged him again, hard. “Uh, don’t worry Hermione, I’ll go.”

She smiled, relief all over her face.

Harry walked over to Ron’s room, and opened the door.

“Hermione, I really don’t want to- oh. Hi, Harry.”

“Hey mate.”  
Harry sat down on the bed next to him.

“Listen, I know you weren’t too keen on moving out, but-”

“It’s not that. And I know why you were suddenly so keen on getting our own place.” He didn’t look at Harry. “Ginny told me before she told you. About Mum and Dad paying for her surgery and all.”

Harry felt something twist in his stomach.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you…”

Ron sighed. “I know it’s selfish. But I didn’t want to move out because… well, I don’t think Hermione and I are going to be together much longer.”

Another twist.

“Ron, I-”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything, or…” he still didn’t look Harry in the eyes. “You know how much we’ve been fighting recently. Every time we get into an argument, I find myself thinking, ‘This is it, she’s going to break up with me.’ Then she doesn’t. And I kind of realised that I keep provoking her because… I think I want it to end.”

It felt like Ron had just dropped a ton of bricks.

“Listen, mate…” Harry took in a deep breath. “I wish I could tell you to stay with her, or that things will get better, but I honestly don’t know. All I can say is I’m here for you.”

Ron finally looked at him.

“Thanks, mate.”

-

“So, Pansy, what are you up to these days?”

“Oh, still training to be a Healer. It’s a long course. Working odd jobs in my spare time to cover rent.” 

“What, your auror friend here can’t pay all of it with his fancy salary?” Nott smirked at Draco.

“That wouldn’t exactly be fair,” Pansy said, her voice cold.

“I’m just joking, Pansy.” Nott turned his cold gaze to her instead. “At least you didn’t choose a job surrounded by the enemy.”

Draco felt his face flush.

“The enemy? The war’s over, Theodore. In case you forgot, Voldemort’s dead.”

Draco flinched, along with most of the others in the room. 

“Now, now, let’s keep it civil,” Blaise said.

“I haven’t forgotten, Pansy, but it seems our friend Draco has forgotten who exactly got all of our family members killed - or worse, put in Azkaban.”

Draco looked at the floor. His heart was beating faster and faster, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Get your head out of your ass, Theodore. You’re just lucky you haven’t suffered the same fate. We all are. We’ve been given a second chance. Draco and I are choosing to take it.” She stood up. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go. It’s clear we aren’t wanted here.” Draco stood up quickly. Pansy threw one last look at Blaise, who avoided her eyes, before storming out. Draco followed her closely. 

He just heard Theodore mutter, “Blood traitor,” before they left the house.


	9. Duty Calls and Booty Calls

“I know it’s holiday season, but we really can’t afford to have anyone take time off. It’s all hands on deck,” Robards sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair, “of course, Christmas Day is a public holiday, but apart from that…”

“He looks more pissed about it than us,” Ron muttered under his breath. Harry nodded. Despite his usually cheerful demeanor, Robards looked tired. He had dark bags under his eyes, and he seemed skinnier. 

“So, as I said, all hands on deck. You all know your assignments. We’re not in the field unless we get some more, er, bad news. Malfoy, Potter, with me. Dismissed.”

Harry made eye contact with Malfoy, who shrugged. They walked over to Robards.

“Alright, boys, I’m afraid we’ve got the dullest assignment - Malfoy, did you bring all the journals you had?”

Malfoy nodded. “They’re at my desk.”

“Excellent. Bring them to the library, and we’ll get started on research.”

A few minutes later, they all stood in the entrance to the sprawling Ministry of Magic library. 

A paper plane soared next to them, and gently prodded Robards in the head. He frowned, and opened it, then frowned some more. “Sorry, boys, I’ve got to attend to this - Potter, can I trust you to, er… keep everything in order?” He gave Harry a meaningful look, unsubtly glancing towards Malfoy. 

“Er, of course, Sir,” Harry said.

“Right. You’re just looking for anything talking about the ‘Purists’, or similar terrorist-type organisations. Got it?”

They nodded. 

Robards smiled tensely, nodded curtly, and left.

Harry looked out at the hundreds of aisles.

“This should be fun.”

What felt like hours later, they had made zero progress. 

The library was organised terribly, and there appeared to be no search system whatsoever. Finding a book that even mentioned organisations targeting Muggles was near impossible.

“They should get Hermione in here,” Harry muttered, more to himself than anything, “we wouldn’t see her for a week, but the place would be completely organised when she emerged.”

To his surprise, Malfoy let out a snort of laughter. Harry turned around in surprise.

Malfoy blushed, and avoided Harry’s eyes. “What?”

Harry smirked. “Nothing. Just didn’t realise you had a sense of humour.”

“Just because I haven’t laughed at any of your half-assed jokes, Potter.”

“I think your head has just been too far up your ass to hear anything.”

“At least my ego hasn’t been ridiculously inflated, Chosen One.”

Harry scoffed. “Okay, daddy’s boy.”

Malfoy fell silent.

“Malfoy? What is it?”

“I… nothing. Sorry.” He looked down at the book he was holding. His hands were trembling.

“Are you alright?” Harry breathed, taking a step closer. 

“I just… I haven’t heard from my mum- my parents- in a while, and…” He took a deep, quivering breath. “I know they weren’t good people. I just want them to be… to be alive.”

Harry felt something twist in his stomach.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had done a lot of terrible things. But above it all, Draco was just a kid who missed his parents. And Harry knew exactly what that felt like.

He reached out a hand and placed it on top of Draco’s trembling one. 

Draco flinched, and looked up, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“It’s okay.”

Draco looked down at the book again, his breathing slowing. Then, he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the title of the book. 

“Hold on a second,” he muttered. 

“What?” Harry said.

“I think… I think I’ve got something.” He pulled his hands and the book away from Harry’s, and dashed over to the table where all of the journals were. 

“Malfoy, what are you-”

“Here!”

He pulled out one of the journals, and flipped to the middle. 

“Talking about my parents made me remember. When I was a kid, my dad used to go out at the solstices and equinoxes. Mum just said he was ‘meeting friends’, but here…” he grabbed the book he had been holding, “The Significance of the Moon and its Cycles, Events and Repetitions. And then here in the journals, there’s an entry that mentions the solstices as time when their ‘goal is clearest’.” He pointed to the page in the journal, and then picked up the book again and flipped to one of the middle pages. “Solstices are when day or night is longest, and equinoxes are where they’re equal. The significance is all about balance, and cleansing.”

“So you think these ‘Purists’ met up on those days? And your dad was involved?”

“He definitely was. At least, at first. He’s mentioned less as time goes on, but from what I can gather, I think the Dark Lord sent him to check up on them. He was kind of a correspondent.”

“So the Purists were a separate organisation to the Death Eaters?”

“I don’t know. It seems like it though.” 

Harry nodded. “Come on. Let’s go tell Robards.”

They dashed out of the library with the book and the journal towards Robards’ office.

“Boys, what-”

“We- well, Malfoy- figured something out!” Harry panted, trying to catch his breath.

Malfoy explained everything, and Robards’ eyes widened, and then his face broke into a grin. “Fantastic work, boys! Well, I think the next step is fairly obvious.”

They stared at him blankly. 

“Go and talk to Lucius Malfoy, obviously! We’ll have to get special permission to enter Azkaban, of course, but it shouldn’t be a problem - this investigation is the Ministry’s highest priority after all. I want you two to go - you should leave as soon as possible. I’ll send a message asking permission right now. Start getting everything ready!”

They walked out of the office. Harry grinned. “This is great! We’ve got a lead, and you’ll be able to check that your parents are alright.”  
Malfoy didn’t smile. He nodded stiffly, and clenched his fist, pressing his nails into his palm.

His hands were trembling again.

-

"I can't do it," Draco said, "I can't go."

Pansy frowned at him. "I thought you wanted to see your parents, Draco."

He shook his head. "I want to know they're alive. I want to see Mother. But I can't… I can't see _him."_

"Ah." Pansy opened her mouth as if to say something, paused, and then continued tentatively. "Draco, I… I don't know much about what your father was like, but don't you think… it'll be good to confront him?"

Draco shook his head. "No. He's just going to…" he trailed off.

_He's just going to make fun of me for working with the Aurors. He'll hit me if he has the chance. He's just going to tell me what a failure I am. _

_Blood Traitor._

He pushed the thought out of his mind. "It doesn't matter. It's not like I have a choice. It's going to look very suspicious if I refuse to go and see him."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Pansy. They obviously don't trust me. I'm the son of two high ranking Death Eaters. I _was_ a Death Eater, for fuck's sake. If I refuse to go and visit my father, they'll think something's going on." 

Pansy sighed, and nodded. "I don't want you to be, but I guess you're right." She reached forwards and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "It'll be okay, Draco."

"Thanks," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

"So when do you leave?" She said, quickly retracting her hand. 

"Uh, tomorrow. I need to pack."

"Where are you even going to stay? It's not like Azkaban's got lodgings outside."

"A cottage on the coast. Then we'll fly into Azkaban. You can't apparate, obviously."

Pansy nodded. "And how long will you be gone?"

"Robards doesn't know. He said however long it takes to get the information we need."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

She paused. "I'll miss you, Draco. We hardly have time to talk like this, or watch movies, or anything."

"I know. I'm sorry. I wish we could - really, I do. But… I have to try twice as hard at work just for them to trust me. They all think I'm plotting something. It's a miracle I even got in, I have no idea how it happened. If I do even one thing out of line, I'm screwed."

"I know, Draco. I'm not blaming you."

He nodded. 

She leaned forwards to hug him, and he put his arms around her. 

"I love you, Pans," he muttered into her hair.

"I love you too, dumbass."

He laughed, and she broke away from the hug, grinning. "Anyway, on the bright side, this means that I can have as many girls as I want over while you're away."

He rolled his eyes. "As if me being here has ever stopped you."

"Okay, fair enough. But now we don't have to stay in my room. The whole house is out oyster."

Draco made a face. "Gross. Nothing in the kitchen, nothing in my bedroom. Those are the rules. And you'd better clean up properly."

"Yeah, yeah, of course we will." Her phone buzzed. "Speaking of which... it's this girl I met the other night, Lana." She picked up the phone. "Hey! Yeah, I'm free... that sounds good... I'll be over in half an hour... bye!" She grinned at Draco. "Duty calls. There's a very pretty girl who _desperately_ needs me to help her 'bake cookies'."

"Have fun. Stay safe. Use protection."

"Okay, mother-bear."

They smiled at each other again, and for a moment, Draco managed to forget about what lay ahead.

-

Harry began stuffing clothes into his suitcase, deep in thought. 

He and Malfoy had talked. Actually talked. Malfoy had actually spoken to him about his emotions. 

And then they'd just ignored it all, chasing after the new lead. 

And Robards wanted them to go alone. Just the two of them. So that he could spy on Malfoy.

_"He trusts you more than you think, Potter. He's much more likely to open up or be less on guard when it's just you."_

Harry was beginning to feel uncertain about spying on Malfoy, too. 

Malfoy was just scared. There was no way he was still a Death Eater. He was just a kid who wanted to see his parents again, unless… unless he was a really good actor-

"Hey, Earth to Harry."

He turned around to see Ginny standing at the doorway to his bedroom.

"Hermione told me you were leaving, so I thought I'd come say goodbye." Her tone was slightly accusatory, just enough that Harry realised he'd done something wrong.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling awkward. "I was going to come say goodbye at the Burrow on my way."

"And you didn't think telling me in advance would be a good idea?"

"Well, I…" Harry trailed off, unable to think of an excuse. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't told her.

"My surgery is in a few days, Harry. I want you to he there when I wake up. Please."

Harry felt a hot wave of embarrassment rush over him.

_Fuck. How had time passed that quickly?_

"I want to be there. Of course I do. I'll try, Ginny, I really will, but I don't have control over how long this trip is going to be."

She sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Bye, Harry. I'll see you."

She left without a second glance.

"Bye," he said, half-heartedly. 

Hermione walked in.

“What?” He said, in an accusatory tone. 

She sighed. “I’m not picking a fight with you, Harry. I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

“Oh.” He felt sheepish. “Sorry. I’m… I’ll be okay.”

“Will you and Ginny be okay?”

Harry avoided her searching gaze. “I don’t know. Yes. We- we have to be okay.”

“Listen, Harry…” She sighed, and sat down next to him on the bed. “I think I’m going to break up with Ron.”

“Well, that’s good timing.”

“What?”

“He’s about to break up with you.”

Hermione frowned. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know… where he was planning to go? To live, I mean?”

“I think he said Dean and Seamus had a room open at their place. There’s a whole group of them. Neville’s there too, and some other guys he doesn’t know.”

She nodded. “And you…?”

“I’m staying here.”

She smiled in relief. “Thank Merlin. Not that I don’t want you to stay with Ron, but… I didn’t really have anywhere else to stay. I didn’t really think living situations through until we’d already settled on this apartment, and then…”

Harry nodded. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

She smiled, and he noticed her bottom lip quivering. She was tearing up. He pulled her into a hug.

“It’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

He wasn’t sure if he was telling that to himself or Hermione. In reality, it felt more like everything was falling apart.


	10. Shades of Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: visible signs of physical abuse.

Harry stood outside the train station, tapping his foot. Malfoy was late. He sighed, and pulled out his phone. Malfoy could have at least texted him to let him know.

Just then, a blur of blond hair pushed through the crowd, and Malfoy stopped next to Harry, panting. “Sorry. Got- got caught up… came as soon as I could…”

“You alright?”

Malfoy nodded, practically wheezing.

“Merlin, Malfoy, you look like the most exercise you’ve done in years is going up the lift at work.” Malfoy gave him a death-glare. “Alright, come on then, or we’ll miss the train.”

They spent most of the train ride in amicable silence, until Harry looked over at Malfoy to see him clenching his fists and chewing his lip.

“Malfoy? What’s wrong?”

Malfoy jumped at Harry’s voice, looked at him, and then looked away. He looked pale. After a few seconds, he said, “Why do you think they let me be an auror, Potter?”

Harry froze. 

Malfoy didn’t know that Harry had endorsed him.

“Well, I… Robards came to me and said you’d applied. He asked for my judgement. I told him you weren’t, you know. Evil.”

Malfoy shook his head. “Why? Why would you tell him that?”

“What?”

Malfoy looked out the train window. “Why would you say I wasn’t… I was a Death Eater, Potter. My parents are in _Azkaban,_ for Merlin’s sake.”

“Keep your voice down,” Harry murmured, looking cautiously around at the Muggles on the train.

“Answer me,” Malfoy said, his voice softer, but angry.

“Listen, Malfoy, I… I saw that you didn’t kill Dumbledore. You couldn’t.”

“I was weak.”

“And at the Battle of Hogwarts, at the final battle, I saw you helping our side.”

“What?” Malfoy looked directly at Harry for the first time.

“I saw you. I was running past, and I saw you fighting a Death Eater.”

“I…”

“Why are you so insistent on being a bad person?”

Harry looked at Malfoy, who turned away to stare out the window.

“I’m not. I don’t think so, at least. I just don’t understand why you trust me. Why anyone does.”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?”

Malfoy looked back at Harry. There was something strange in his expression that Harry couldn’t quite pinpoint.

The train came to a stop, and the doors hissed and slid open. Malfoy stood up and got down his luggage, avoiding Harry’s gaze. 

The taxi ride was also spent in silence, but Harry could almost feel Malfoy’s tension rising. He was staring out the window, chewing his lip again. 

The taxi driver let them out by a small, quaint cottage. As they arrived, an elderly man stepped out of the house.

“Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy?”

Harry nodded.

“Welcome. It ain’t much. Here’s the keys, and the key to the boat.” He handed them to Harry. “A’ight. Give me a ring when your stay is finished.” He gave Harry a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled onto it.

They walked inside, to find a kitchen, lounge, bathroom, and single bedroom.

Harry and Malfoy stood at the door to the bedroom, staring at the bed.

“Er-”

“I’ll take the couch,” Malfoy said, walking over to it and dumping his suitcase. 

Harry nodded, and put his own suitcase down.

Malfoy was standing in the kitchen, next to the open fridge. “I’ll get supper going.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Malfoy didn’t respond. 

Harry took out his phone.

RON: Oi, you’re gonna be back for Ginny’s surgery, right?

HERMIONE: Harry, I know how difficult it is for us to get out of work, but I’m sure if you talk to Robards…

He didn’t read the rest of the message. 

Harry didn’t really know why, but he hadn’t even asked Robards if he could take time off. Hermione was right. He would probably say yes. But...

Harry looked over at Malfoy. 

He wasn’t sure that Draco could do this on his own. 

Where did his priorities lie?

_We have to find out who’s doing the killings. If we don’t, it could be another war…_

Yes. His priority was stopping whoever was killing Muggles.

-

The boat was freezing.

Draco wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Somehow, Potter didn’t seem to be that cold. The sea sprayed against Draco’s face, and he scowled.

Potter was staring out into the open sea, his face silhouetted against the grey morning sky. His curly hair was swept back by the wind. Draco watched as he bit his lip and adjusted his glasses.

“What?” Potter said, turning to face him.

Draco looked away, hiding his blush. “Nothing.”

They began to approach the rock that Azkaban was perched on. It was surrounded by a thin mist, and the air seemed to be getting colder.

Dementors.

"I can't believe they still keep those things around," Potter muttered as the boat came to a stop.

"I guess they don't know what else to do with them. Can't exactly let them roam free."

Potter nodded, his brow furrowed. "We should cast our patronuses." He pulled out his wand. "Expecto patronum!" 

A silvery-blue stag billowed out from the tip of his wand, dancing around them for a few seconds before walking on the surface of the water next to them, keeping perfect pace with the boat.

Potter looked around at Draco expectantly. Draco felt a hot blush creep up his face. "I can't… I don't really know how- I can't cast a patronus," he said, turning away from Potter. 

"Oh," Potter said. "Well, it's a difficult spell. I guess I forgot most people weren't in Dumbledore's Army." 

"Did you learn… patronuses?" Draco asked, surprised. Patronuses were incredibly difficult. Potter doing them was one thing, but all the kids in Dumbledore's Army…

"Yeah. I taught them. Professor Lupin taught me in third year, when all the Dementors were at Hogwarts and I kept being affected by them."

Draco nodded. 

"It's a really difficult spell, though. Lupin said most adults can't cast corporeal ones."

Forcing a smile, Draco looked away again. 

He didn't want to tell Potter that the reason he couldn't cast one wasn't because the spell was too difficult. Maybe he was arrogant, but Draco was a good wizard.

It was because he didn't have any happy memories strong enough to produce one.

-

The boat stopped against the small jetty that was tacked onto the rock, and they made their way up the winding path to the prison. Harry's stag followed them closely, dancing around them in circles. 

They were greeted - if you could call it that - at the entrance by an old woman who was hunched over, supported by a crane. Her patronus, a parrot, was on her shoulder, and looked almost as old and weak as she did.

"You're from the Ministry?" She said, scowling at them.

They nodded.

"This way." She walked inside. Harry exchanged a look with Draco before following her. "You're here to see Lucius Malfoy," she said, more as a statement than a question.

"Er, Narcissa Malfoy too," Draco said.

"That's not what your superior told me."

Harry looked over at Draco, whose fists were clenched again. He looked apprehensive.

"Change of plans," Harry interjected, and the woman glared at him. "We need to see both of them."

This wasn't strictly true. But Draco did need to see his mother, Harry reasoned, and she was Lucius's wife - maybe she new something, or would be willing to tell them things that Lucius would not.

The woman scowled at them, but nodded. 

They walked up a winding set of dilapidated stone stairs, and into a long passageway lined with cell doors. 

There was a dementor outside every cell door. They watched them closely, Harry's patronus not quite close enough to harm them. 

Inside the cells, Harry thought he recognised some of the faces, but it was difficult to tell. They were all cowered in the corners of their cells, or pacing up and down, their faces thin and withered.

They walked past a cell and the inhabitant ran to the door and started beating their fists against it, screaming, making Harry and Draco jump. The old woman remained unphased.

She stopped in front of a cell. "Here's Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy is in the high security zone." 

She gestured at the dementor, and it floated off, leaving them at the cell door.

She pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

It swung open.

In the corner of the cell, crouched down, was a woman with long, matted, silvery blonde hair. 

She looked up when the door opened, her eyes unfocused. 

"Draco?"

Her voice was hoarse and soft, like a faint gust of wind.

"Mother," he said, and there was a moment before both of them seemed to break and move towards each other. 

Narcissa moved forwards, but was stopped abruptly by heavy chains that cuffed her hands to the wall. Draco moved to the point where she had stopped.

They embraced, Draco cradling his mother's body. 

"Hey, no touching," the guard woman began, but Harry put his hand out to stop her moving forwards.

"They'll stop now. Just give them a moment."

She scowled at Harry as Draco and Narcissa broke apart. 

It was then that Harry - and Draco - noticed the bruises on her face.

Draco reached out, gently stroking the purple blotches on her face. "What happened?"

"It wasn't… Lucius… he didn't mean to, Draco," she breathed, her voice shaking.

"Stop making excuses for him," Draco said, trembling. He pressed her forehead to hers, closing his eyes. 

Harry suddenly felt as though he was invading a very private moment.

Feeling awkward, he walked over to the guard. "Can you give us some privacy? Our interview questions are sensitive, and we can't reveal them to civilians yet."

She scowled, but obliged. "I'll be on the next floor up, for when you want to speak to the other one."

Harry was relieved to see that by the time he'd finished, Draco and Narcissa had broken apart.

As if she hadn't noticed him before, Narcissa's eyes roamed over him. "Harry Potter," she said, her voice still weak, "you're the last person I would have expected to come and visit me."

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm afraid we're here on Ministry business. Otherwise we wouldn't have been allowed to come." 

"I see." She closed her eyes, and stumbled for a moment. Draco put his arm out to catch her. "I'm sorry, I… My head feels a bit fuzzy. With the guard dementor gone, I can at least think straight, but I can't…" She stumbled again, and sat down on the floor, the chains clinking against the ground.

Draco sat in front of her. "It's alright, Mother. I'm just glad you're sane. From your last letters, I thought-" Draco stopped abruptly, and glanced back at Harry. 

"I… the Dementors kept crowding around us, because Lucius was shouting so much. He was just shouting, shouting, screaming at them, screaming at me… then he went quiet for a few days, and I thought…" Harry noticed a tear trickle down her cheek. "But he was okay. He was just… planning. Then, once the Dementors had stopped paying so much attention to him, he managed to get out of his cell. He woke me up, he opened my door too, and wanted me to escape with him. I said no, it wouldn't work, I was too scared, and then…" She gestured to the bruises on her face as more tears fell.

Harry watched as Draco clenched his fists. There was an expression on his face that Harry had never seen before. 

He was furious. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco managed to say, as though the words were a small hiss of air out of an over-filled balloon. 

"Draco, don't," Narcissa said, and Draco looked away. He took a few steps until he was standing next to Harry.

"What do we need to ask her?"

Harry cleared his throat again. "Er, just if she knows anything about the Purists."

"The Purists…" she muttered, "You mean that group that Lucius was part of years ago?"

"Yes."

She frowned, chewing her lip. "I don't really know… I can't remember much, but Lucius was locked out at one point. He didn't talk to me about it." She rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry, I’m really trying, but…” She looked at Draco. “All of my memories are fuzzy, now. Except the bad ones.”

“It’s alright, Mother. Thank you.” He bent down to kiss his mother on the forehead. “We’re going to go speak to Father now.”

“Draco, please, don’t be too hard on him, he’s-”

“I’m not making excuses for him anymore,” Draco said, and his voice was firm. There was a fire behind his eyes as he turned and walked out the room, Harry following.

They closed the door behind them, and the dementor slowly floated back to its post. Harry’s patronus also trotted up next to them, keeping pace as they walked down the corridor and up the stairs.

Harry wanted to say something to Draco, to comfort him, but he didn’t know what. 

He opted for what he hoped was somewhat companionable silence.

They reached the next floor, where the guard was waiting for them. She handed Harry a key, and jerked her head towards the nearest cell. She then left them, walking down the staircase.

“Are you ready?” Harry said.

Draco nodded.

The two dementors outside Lucius’s cell drifted to the side as Harry and his patronus walked towards the door. He put the key in, and turned it. 

Inside the cell, two more dementors stood in the corners. Between them, practically hanging by his hands from the wall, was a figure with hair of a likeness to Narcissa’s. Long, blonde, dirty and matted. But his also had streaks of dark red. 

He slowly moved his head upwards, and started laughing.

His laughter was hysterical, filling the room with a cold, malicious sound. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Lucius Malfoy’s left eye was closed, swollen and purple. He had a cut on his eyebrow and forehead, and blood still seemed to be trickling out of them. 

His laughter died out, to be replaced by voice as chilling.

“Draco. So _good_ to see you after all this time. How long has it been? Days, weeks, months, years, decades… no matter, no matter, come and give your father a hug.” He made a motion to move towards them, but was stopped instantly by the chains. “Ah, forgot about that little problem. They won’t take these off. Come here, Draco, let me see your face properly.” 

Draco didn’t move. He was frozen in place. “You hurt Mother.”

Lucius started to laugh again. “Oh, she deserved that one. I was _trying_ to help us. _Save_ us.” He suddenly scowled, his face turning cold and angry. “She wouldn’t listen. I did what had to be done.” Then it was over, and he started laughing again. 

His laughter echoed around the chamber again.

Draco took a step forwards. “Tell us what you know about the Purists.”

“Hmm, let me think. The Purists… Purists, Purists, Purists. Oh! I remember… But I’m not going to tell you, after you’ve been so rude to me.”

Harry watched as Draco stepped forwards again.

“I’m not going to ask again. Tell us, now.”

Lucius smiled, thin and menacing. “Or what?”

Draco didn’t move for a few seconds. Harry moved forwards, about to try and say something, _anything_, but Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at Lucius.

“Malfoy, don’t,” Harry said, his hand reaching in his robes for his own wand.

Harry noticed Draco’s hand trembling.

“Oh, listen to the Chosen One, Draco. Or are you going to do it? Hurt me. Do it. _Do it."_

“Don’t. It won’t solve anything,” Harry said, his heartbeat quickening. 

“You can’t do it, can you? You’re just as weak as always.”

“Malfoy-”

“You’re a coward.”

“Malfoy, _don’t-”_

“You always were useless-”

_“Draco-”_

“You’re a _failure.”_

_“CRUCIO!”_

Draco’s voice was shrill, panicked. Harry immediately yelled, “Protego!” And Draco’s bolt of red light bounced off Harry’s shield, hitting the wall and leaving a small crater.”

He turned his head to look at Harry, and Harry saw a tear fall down his cheek.

“Why did you stop me?” He whispered, his voice shaking. 

“I’m impressed,” Lucius said, his face once again broken into a terrible smile. “You’ve learned more than I thought you had.”

Draco snapped his head back to face his father, and walked forwards until they were face to face. “Shut up. _Shut. Up._ Just- just tell us what the Purists are, and what happened to them.”

“I’ll tell you, Draco, because I’m proud of you. And because I hate those people, anyway. They made me a failure in the Dark Lord’s eyes.”

He paused, staring at Draco. “The Dark Lord gave ordered me to meet with someone called Collins, and his wife, at every solstice and equinox. I was told to record their findings, doings, plans, everything, and then report back to the Dark Lord, as well as give them instructions from him. They listened to what the Dark Lord wanted less and less, and started lying to me. I was ordered to intimidate them, and I attempted to do so, but unfortunately there was one of me, and a few dozen or so of them. I returned a failure. The Dark Lord had less trust in me from then on, and he went himself to stop the Purists. He said he killed them all, but I doubt he succeeded.”

Lucius paused.

“There are records of all the meetings, as well as the address of the place of our meetings, back at Malfoy Manor. They’re in a safe in the master bedroom.”

Draco turned around, and walked out the cell.

Lucius started to laugh again.

Feeling slightly shaky, Harry followed Draco out into the passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a long one :) anyways, i've just started my last year of high school so this year is gonna be pretty hectic. i'm going to try and keep updates as regular as possible, but once i'll be writing exams in may, mocks in around september and then finals in november so around then i won't be posting much. i'm hoping to finish the fanfic this year though, so we'll see what happens!


	11. Old Friends

Draco lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t even tried getting to sleep, knowing it was pointless, and that even if he did manage to sleep, it would have been interrupted by nightmares.

He heard a door softly click open, and soft footsteps started to grow louder. He could just make out Potter’s figure walking towards the front door.

“Potter?” He said, making the other boy jump.

“Oh. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Draco sat up. “No.” He squinted at Potter’s face, which was becoming slightly more discernible as his eyes got used to the darkness. “Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“Where are you going?”

“Outside,” Potter said, and Draco could just make out Harry’s hand pushing his ever-messy hair out of his face. “I figured trying to get sleep is pointless, so… might as well enjoy the night.” Potter paused for a few seconds, and then said, “Want to join me?”

Draco felt his heart jump. “Okay.”

He wrapped his duvet around himself, and followed Potter out the front door. 

Potter sat down on the porch, and Draco sat next to him. There were a few moments of silence before Potter spoke.

“Are you doing alright?”

Draco looked out onto the ocean. The waves were softly and rhythmically crashing against the shore.

“I don’t know,” Draco replied, moving his gaze upwards to the stars. Here, away from the city, the sky was covered in glowing silver spots. “I can’t seem to feel anything. Except anger. But even that’s mostly gone away, now. I’m just… empty.”

He was deliberately avoiding looking at Potter, maybe because he wasn’t sure why it was suddenly so easy to tell him everything. 

“I think that’s normal,” Potter said, and Draco could feel Potter’s eyes on him. He tried to continue staring resolutely at the sky, but for some reason he felt his eyes being drawn downwards to lock with Potter’s. His face was illuminated by the moon and stars in a silvery glow, almost like a halo, and his signature emerald green eyes seemed to be speckled with gold.

Draco turned away, feeling his cheeks turn red. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his lap. “It’s cold, I think I’m going to go back…” Draco trailed off, not finishing the sentence he didn’t want to say.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Potter said, and he ran inside. A few moments later, he sat back down, holding a small jar. “This is Hermione’s signature move,” he grinned, and pulled out his wand, muttering something and tapping the jar. A bright blue flame erupted inside it, and he quickly put the lid on. Draco immediately felt warmth spread throughout his body.

“Good, right?” Potter said. Draco nodded, smiling slightly. There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, the words coming out as barely a whisper.

“For what?”

“For dragging you into all this.”

“All what?”

Draco could practically feel Potter’s frown boring into his skull.

“I don’t know, Potter. For dragging you into my messy family life, for letting it get in the way of the mission.”

“You didn’t drag me into it. And it didn’t get in the way of the mission. We still got the information we needed, even if we did get a little bit… sidetracked.” Potter smiled, almost mischievously. “And besides, it’s over now. We can tell Robards what we learned, he can send some people to go get the records from the Manor, and then we go find these Purists.”

He made everything sound so easy.

But for some reason, something inside Draco was telling him that he didn’t want someone else going and getting the records. 

_I should do it._

_I have to._

“I have to go to the Manor,” Draco said, surprising himself and Potter with the determination in his voice. 

Potter opened his mouth, about to reply, when an owl swooped down from above and dropped a letter at their feet before flying away.

Potter picked up the letter, and opened it. 

Draco watched his frown turn to panic as he read the message.

“It’s Amyra,” he said, his voice shaking, “she’s been hurt.”

“Let’s go.”

-

Harry knew it was a dangerous distance to apparate, but he didn’t care. He felt the breath being squeezed out of his lungs as he, Draco and all their belongings contorted to land inside Amyra’s house. 

“Where is she?” Harry said immediately, the sound of his voice and the apparition making Robards, Ron and Hermione jump.

“Harry-”

_”Where is she?”_

“She’s at St Mungo’s, mate,” Ron said, eyeing Draco warily.

“Which ward?”

“Uh-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He looked over at Draco, who nodded. He grabbed his arm and closed his eyes, turning on the spot.

After a few seconds of discomfort, they opened their eyes inside the clinically clean entrance hall of St Mungos.

Harry strode over to the desk. “What ward is Amyra Collins in?”

The woman behind the desk looked Harry up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need the emergency ward?” She said, her eyes lingering on his arm. Harry looked down, and was surprised to see blood slowly staining his shirt.

“No, I’m fine. Just got splinched. Where is Amyra Collins?” 

She gave him another look, and started typing on her computer. “She’s in Ward E4. But it’s an emergency room, she isn’t allowed visitors-”

“Thank you,” Harry said, and turned, walking towards the lift.

“Sir, you won’t be allowed-”

The lift door closed.

Harry and Draco stood in silence, for a few moments before the lift dinged and the doors slid open. Harry practically sprinted down the hall, Draco close in tow, before reaching ward E4. He shoved the door open to reveal a large room with a few beds, nurses and doctors milling around in green Healer’s robes. 

“Sir, excuse me, you aren’t allowed in here-” One of the nurses said, but Harry pushed past him, having spotted Amyra’s bed.

She was lying on the bed, eyes closed. Her body was wrapped up in bandages around her torso and right arm, and there was some kind of drip going into her arm.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. No visitors are allowed in this ward,” the nurse said again, trying to pull Harry away by his arm.

“When is she going to wake up?” He asked, his voice barely coming out as a whisper.

“Sir, please leave this room and the head Healer will answer your questions.”

“Let’s go,” Draco said, and when he didn’t move, Draco added, “Harry. Let’s go.”

Harry almost jumped at the use of his first name. He looked around, and Draco was looking at him almost pleadingly.

“Okay.”

The nurse guided them to the waiting room, where they sat for what felt like hours before the Healer finally came out to talk to them.

“Has she woken up?” Harry said immediately, standing up.

“Not yet, I’m afraid, Mr…?”

“Potter.”

The Healer’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Mr Potter, yes. We’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up, but for now she is in a stable condition.”

“What happened?”

“She was hexed with some pretty nasty spells, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Luckily her dog was loud enough that neighbours called the local police, and then our people intercepted the situation.”

Harry sat down again, nodding. 

“If you have any more questions, ask one of the nurses to speak to me.”

-

Draco watched as Potter put his head into his hands, his messy hair flopping forwards. 

He didn’t even try and say anything. What could he say?

“Every time…” Potter muttered, his voice shaking, “Every time I find another person who connects me to my parents, they’re taken away from me. Sirius and Lupin, Dumbledore… then I finally find Amyra, who knew Sirius really well, and the last thing I do before she gets hurt is shout at her.”

“She’ll be okay,” Draco said, for lack of anything else.

Potter lifted his head up. “We have to find these people. The Purists. We’ve got to stop them.”

Draco nodded. “We will,” he said, and he meant it.

The fire in Potter’s eyes seemed almost nostalgic, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. 

“Harry?”

They both looked up, to see Bill Weasley frowning at them.

“Bill? What are you doing here?” Potter said, standing up.

“Uh, well, I was just trying to find the cafeteria to get some coffee,” he said.

“I mean, in the hospital.”

“Er, I thought you knew - Ginny woke up from surgery just over an hour ago,” he said, his eyes now drifting warily to Draco. 

Potter swore under his breath. “Malfoy, stay here in case Amyra wakes up,” he said, and walked off, following Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter took forever to write, partially because school started and i've been ridiculously busy, and partially because i was a bit stuck as to how to get the story moving again without it feeling unnatural. i'm not super proud of how this chapter turned out and it's a bit short but i did it, and i'm proud of myself for that :) anyway, hope you enjoyed, and hopefully the next chapter won't take so long!


	12. Sailing Downhill

"Hey Gin, I found your boyfriend," Bill said as they walked in through the ward door. 

"Harry!" Mr Weasley said, and Mrs Weasley immediately gave up the chair next to Ginny's bed. George and Percy were also around her bed.

Ginny was lying on the bed, sitting upright. She smiled at Harry, slightly groggy. "Hey."

"Hey there," Harry said, sitting down. Bill jerked his head outside, and Mr and Mrs Weasley, George and Percy followed him outside. 

"How are you?"

A smile split across her face. "I'm great. A bit tired, but they have me something to drink and the anaesthetic has pretty much worn off. I can't feel any pain, either."

"That's good," Harry said, smiling, and he squeezed her hand. 

"You didn't come back with Ron and Hermione?" Ginny asked. "They were here when I woke up, but they had to leave pretty quickly for something work-related. I thought you were going to be with them."

"No," Harry said, "I was across the country, we'd just finished our work at Azkaban. I got an owl from Robards saying Amyra had been hurt."

Ginny frowned slightly. "You came to see Amyra?" 

"I mean, I…" Harry felt like whatever he said would be the wrong thing to say. He opted for the truth. "I, uh, yeah." 

Ginny's frown enveloped her entire face. "Harry, I understand that you're busy with work. I know how difficult it is for you right now. I was expecting you not to be able to come today, or not come right away… I told myself it would happen, but it was okay." 

She sighed, and looked away from him. "I'm struggling too, Harry. I love you. At least, I think I do. But I'm not so sure if you love me anymore." 

"Ginny, I still love you. Of course I do," he said, and she looked back at him.

"So you couldn't come back for my surgery, but as soon as some random person you've met what, once, is hurt, you rush here as fast as you can?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't keep this up anymore. I can't date someone who isn't going to be there for me."

Harry felt as if someone had stuck a rather heavy metal object in his insides. 

"And don't give me that bullshit about second chances, either. You've had enough of those."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm glad your surgery went well," he said.

"Thanks. Me, too."

He walked out of her ward, feeling almost dazed. The Weasleys all stood up as he came out the door, but he walked past, not knowing what to say to any of them.

_"Yeah, sorry but I completely forgot about Ginny's surgery. I was actually only here for someone else. Oh, and she just broke up with me. Things are going to be a bit awkward now, aren't they?"_

Yeah, no.

Harry turned suddenly and let his knuckle hit the wall, almost surprising himself with it. A nurse who had been walking past jumped and turned to look at him before hurriedly continuing on her way. 

He looked at his knuckles, which were now red. His hand was shaking. 

He could still see the scars - white and faded now, but there - I must not tell lies.

"Potter?" Harry turned around, and saw Draco walking towards him. 

"Oh. Hey."

"I was just trying to find you, but I didn't know what ward you went to." He pushed a strand of hair out of his face. "Anyway, how's Ginny?" 

"She's, er," Harry frowned, running a hand through his hair, "yeah, she's good." 

"That's good," Draco said, his brow furrowed slightly.

Harry paused, and then looked down at the floor. "She uh, just broke up with me, actually." 

"Oh," Draco said, and Harry looked back at him. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." 

They both paused for a few moments, avoiding eye contact, until Draco spoke again.

"Amyra just woke up, by the way. If you're up to seeing her." 

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure if he was, but he needed to distract himself somehow.

"Let's go."

They walked down a few flights of stairs and along a corridor before reaching Amyra's ward. Draco stopped outside, and moved his head slightly in the direction of the door. He didn't need to say anything else.

Harry walked in alone. 

"Hey, kid. Wasn't sure I'd see you again," Amyra said. She was sitting propped up on a mountain of pillows, her slight smile still groggy.

"I came as soon as I heard," Harry said, "but you hadn't woken up yet. I was scared, I thought-" He paused, looking away. "I thought I was going to lose you." 

"They can't get rid of me that easily, kid, don't worry," she said, and then, "Listen, Harry. I don't… I'm not really a good, like, guardian, or such. I mean, not how Sirius was to you."

"I know," Harry said, and sat down in the chair next to her bed. "I just feel like I've lost everyone. After I met Sirius, I finally had family again, and then…" 

"I know, kid. I know."

"I'm sorry for shouting at you."

"Me, too."

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Uh, Robards is here,” Draco said, poking his head inside.

Harry swore under his breath, but nodded. “I’ll be out in a second.”

He turned back to Amyra.

“You’re still working with the Malfoy kid?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “He’s not that bad, actually.”

Amyra nodded.

“Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Robards actually, uh, specifically told me not to come and see you. I kind of ignored that part of his owl.”

Amyra laughed. “You remind me a lot of Sirius, you know.”

Harry felt something warm spread outwards from his heart. 

He walked out of the ward, to see Robards pacing up and down, and Draco chewing his lip nervously, sitting in one of the chairs in the passage.

“Potter! What part of do not leave your position didn’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Harry said, as Robards ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I had to know what was happening. But I can promise you, Malfoy had nothing to do with it - I didn’t tell him what the letter said.”

“You are going to be the death of me, Potter,” Robards muttered. “Well, the situation is all sorted now, anyway…”

“Situation?”

Robards paused, considering his words carefully and throwing Draco a cautionary glance before speaking. “We, er, received word from Azkaban that, shortly after you finished your interviews, Lucius Malfoy attempted to escape again.”

Draco stood up quickly from his chair.

“There was a second owl following the first one with more instructions, but it seems you left before it arrived.”

“Where is he?” Draco said, his voice shaking slightly.

“Back in the high security cell, with even more Dementors and enchantments on him than before,” Robards said, sighing. “We aren’t on very good terms with… anyway. As I said, the situation has been resolved. Lucius Malfoy has been restrained.” Robards sighed again. “Anyway, I need you two back at the Ministry, now. Granger and Weasley are already there, along with a few others. More Muggles have been killed, too.”

-

They apparated into the entrance hall of the Ministry, and quickly made their way up to the Auror offices. As Robards had said, a group of Aurors was already there, waiting. 

“Harry,” Granger said as they walked in and he went over to her, starting a whispered conversation. Draco stood at the edge of the group. He looked around and spotted Weasley standing slightly aside from Granger, looking distinctly downtrodden.

“Alright, everyone,” Robards called, “As you are aware, there was an attempted attack on Amyra Collins, one of the wizards we interviewed in trying to find out about the Muggle killings. Since then, there have been two more Muggles that have been killed. We are in crisis mode. The Muggle authorities can’t figure out what’s killing the Muggles, as the killers are using the unforgivable curse. To them, it just looks like a bunch of perfectly healthy people are dropping dead for no reason. We need to stop this before it gets out of hand. We could be looking at a breach of the Secrecy Act if we aren’t careful.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. 

“Everyone report to your head Aurors. Malfoy, go with Goldstein. Potter, Granger, my office.”

Draco frowned, and moved over to where Goldstein was, who smiled meekly at him. 

He watched as Potter and Granger followed Robards out the room, presumably to his office.

“I’ve got to uh, go. To the bathroom,” Draco said, and followed them.

Once he was out of the main office area, he cast a non-verbal disillusionment charm, and walked quickly to catch up with Robards, Potter and Granger.

They walked into Robards’s office, and Draco stood outside, ear pressed against the door.

“...asked Potter to report back to me regularly on Malfoy’s actions,” Robards was saying, “I’d like you to do the same, Granger. I’m not saying that he can’t be trusted, but with everything going on right now… well, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Understood, Sir,” Granger said.

“Sir, I’m not sure I understand what I’m supposed to be looking for,” Potter said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been watching him for weeks now, and there’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”

“It’s more of a, er, precautionary measure, Potter. Just in case there is something suspicious.”

“Like what?”

“Any sort of… sign… that he may still be affiliated with Death Eaters, or their kind.”

“But he’s not!”

“Harry,” Hermione said, her tone concerned.

“Potter, you have to understand - it’s not that I don’t trust your judgement, it’s that I have to be careful. For example, if there’s nothing suspicious going on, would you care to explain why the caretaker of Azkaban informed me that there were spells cast in Lucius Malfoy’s cell?”

Silence.

“He was defending himself.”

“Against a man tied up, weakened by Dementors, without a wand?”

“Lucius taunted him. It doesn’t matter - I can promise you that Malfoy is in no way affiliated with Death Eaters anymore. And we found out where the records of meetings with the Purists are kept.”

Robards sighed, deeply.

“Just continue to keep an eye on him. We will continue with work tomorrow. Get some rest. Dismissed.”

Draco quickly moved away from the door as it opened, and Potter and Granger walked out. They closed the door behind them, and Draco followed as they walked down the hall, talking in low whispers.

“Harry, what happened in Azkaban?”

Potter stopped walking, and Draco almost bumped into him.

“We… we went to see Narcissa first, and we found out… Lucius had tried to escape, and take Narcissa with him, but she refused, and he- he hit her. Then we saw Lucius, and he kept taunting Malfoy, and I think Malfoy just… snapped.”

Granger didn’t say anything.

“He tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse. I stopped him with Protego.”

“Harry, that’s bad,” she said softly.

Potter started walking again.

“What do you mean?”

“That’s an unforgivable curse. They’re illegal.”

“I’ve used one before.”

“That was different. The Battle of Hogwarts-”

“You weren’t there, Hermione.” Potter stopped again. “If I had been in Dra- in Malfoy’s position, I would have done the same thing.”

“I think Robards might have a point.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Potter turned to face Granger.

“Not that he’s a Death Eater - I don’t think there are even any of those left - just that we shouldn’t blindly trust him.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t think he’s a bad person.”

“Harry, have you forgotten what he was like in school?”

Potter didn’t respond.

“He bullied us. For years.”

Draco felt his face grow hot, shame crawling over his skin.

“I know that. But… I don’t know. People change.”

Granger sighed. “Yes, I suppose they do. Just be careful, alright?”

“Okay.”

They walked off, leaving Draco standing alone in the corridor.


	13. Simpler Times

“Hey, Leo. Hello. Yes, I love you too,” Draco said, laughing as Leo licked his hand excitedly and wagged his tail. “Yeah, I was gone a long time. Sorry. Did you survive with Pansy?”

“More like did I survive with him,” Pansy said, walking into the room and pouting.

Draco rolled his eyes. “He’s not that hard to deal with.”

“We almost got caught by the landlord when I took him for a walk. I had to duck around a corner and cast disillusionment charms.”

“Well, you didn’t get caught, so it’s fine.”

Pansy sighed. “I suppose he’s not all bad.”

“See? I told you he’d grow on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. How was your little vacation with Potter?”

Draco sighed and flopped down on the couch. “I’d hardly call it a vacation. But the short version is: my dad’s still an asshole, someone nearly died, Potter’s girlfriend broke up with him, and my boss has set Potter and Granger to spy on me because he thinks I’m still a Death Eater.”

“Yikes.” Pansy sat down next to him.

“Yeah.” Draco sighed again. It was that kind of day. “What have you been up to, apart from narrowly escaping eviction?”

“Well, not much except work. But uh, Blaise came to visit.”

Draco stared at her. “What did he want?”

“To apologise. To you, actually. He didn’t know you were away.”

‘What did you say?”

“I told him to fuck off.”

Draco grinned. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. I’m tired of his shit too. I’m so sick of them acting like the war isn’t over, acting like their parents are going to come home and everything will go back to how it used to be.”

Draco smiled softly. “I love you, Pansy.”

“I love you too, dumbass.” She pulled him in for a hug. Leo jumped up on the couch, barking happily and trying to lick their faces.

“Hey, down. Leo, _down,”_ Draco laughed, then froze. “Wait, what happened to the silencing spell?”

“I put it on the whole apartment, not just him. Means I can play my music loudly without number 9 complaining.”

“Smart.”

“Yep.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Draco scratched Leo behind his ears, and he nuzzled into Draco’s leg.

“I think… I’m going to have to go back to the Manor,” Draco finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“My dad said that there were some records there that we need for work.”

“Can’t someone else go and get them?”

Draco bit his lip. “I suppose, but… I don’t know. I don’t want to run away anymore.”

“Okay. That makes sense. And I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can come with you?”

“Unfortunately that would be leaking highly confidential information to a civilian.”

Pansy laughed. “Yeah, thought so.”

“I think I’ll be okay, though. I mean, it’s going to suck. But I’ll be okay.”

Pansy nodded. “Yeah. You got this.”

Draco smiled. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but for the first time in a while, he felt okay.

-

Harry turned the key in the apartment door, and stepped inside. “Hey, I’m back,” he called out. No response. Ron and Hermione must not have been dismissed for the day yet.

He opened the cupboards, looking for some kind of snack. The contents consisted of a tin of crushed tomatoes, a packet of rice and an almost empty packet of crackers. Harry frowned, took the crackers, and moved onto the fridge.  
A singular carrot lay on the bottom shelf, along with some cheese that was definitely off, and butter.

“Yikes,” Harry said, biting into a cracker. 

He turned around as he heard the lock in the front door click, to see Hermione opening the door.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” he said, making her jump.

“Harry! Sorry, I forgot you’d be home today…” she trailed off, and Harry noticed that her eyes were red and puffy.

“What’s wrong, Hermione? And where’s Ron?”

“Oh, he didn’t… he didn’t tell you…” 

“Tell me what? I haven’t seen either of you since I left Amyra’s house-” Harry suddenly cottoned on. “Oh,” he said, “you guys broke up?”

Hermione nodded.

Harry walked around the kitchen counter, and pulled Hermione into a hug. She sniffed a bit, and held him tightly.

“Thanks, Harry.”

He broke away. “Uh, there’s no food.”

Her eyes widened. “Fuck, I’m so sorry - I’ve just been getting takeout, I haven’t cooked since Ron left-”

“I’m not blaming you, don’t worry. It’s okay. Just an observation. You wanna order pizza?”

She nodded.

Harry called the nearest pizza place and ordered two larges, then joined Hermione on the couch.

“Where is Ron? Back with his parents?”

Hermione shook her head. “He moved in with Dean and a couple of others, in a shared res kind of thing.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

Pause.

“I thought…” Harry bit his lip, unsure how to start. “I talked to Ron at the dinner party we had, and he made it sound like you were about to break up with him.”

“I really don’t know what I was thinking of doing, honestly. We had a lot of fights where I was about to do it, and then I just… couldn’t. And I would hope that he would do it, and then he wouldn’t either, and we’d both apologise and just act like nothing had happened.” She sighed, and wiped her eyes. “I think I thought that if he did it, I’d feel better. But now he’s broken up with me, and I still feel awful. And guilty.”

“Yeah, I think I’m feeling the same. With the guilt.”

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

_Oh. She doesn’t know._

_Fuck._

“Oh. Uh, Ginny, uh, broke up with me. Back at the hospital.”

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Hermione breathed. 

Harry felt tears burning behind his eyes. “I… it’s okay, it was… I get why she did it. I was a pretty shit boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to hurt,” she said.

Harry nodded, letting the tears roll down his cheeks.

“I missed you,” he said, “it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just… talk.”

“I missed you too, Harry.”

Harry stood up suddenly, and took out his phone, putting it on the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

He opened YouTube, and loaded the song he was looking for. 

It was the song that played when they had danced together in the tent, three years ago, after Ron had left.

Harry put out his hand.

“May I have this dance?”  
-

“I can’t believe you swindled me into going out again,” Draco said, raising his voice over the thrum of the music.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I bother, you’re always so mopey. Let loose a little! Maybe you’ll even start to enjoy yourself.”

Draco took a sip of his drink.

“Come on, dance with me?”

“Fine,” he said, with a long-suffering sigh, and followed Pansy to the dance floor.

Despite himself, Draco was actually starting to have fun. He and Pansy danced terribly, but he didn’t care. 

After a few minutes, Pansy nudged Draco, and jerked her head to a man who was sitting at the bar, staring at Draco.

“He’s been looking at you for ages, Draco, _go talk to him,”_ she said, shoving Draco in his direction.

Draco stumbled over to the bar, brushing his hair out of his face, and ordered another drink, giving the man a sideways glance. He had chin length dark hair, and dark eyes. He was clean shaven, and was wearing a button up with the top few buttons undone. As Draco reached into his pocket to pay for his drink, the man put some money on the counter and slid it towards the bartender.

“Thanks,” Draco said, smiling.

“You’re welcome,” the man said, “the way you dance… I like it.” He had a thick Eastern-European accent that Draco couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Draco blushed. “Er, thanks. I don’t really know what I’m doing, honestly, I was just having fun.”

The man nodded towards Pansy. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” Draco laughed, and then paused. He felt his heartbeat speed up as he took a deep breath. “I’m, uh, I’m gay.”

The man nodded. “I am bisexual.”

Draco smiled. He wasn’t sure why it was still so hard to come out, even to a stranger.

“I’m Draco, by the way.”

“Yes. Draco Malfoy,” the man said, nodding. Draco stared at him, confused. 

Either he had happened to meet another wizard at a non-descript Muggle bar, or this man was a stalker.

“Sorry, I did not mean to sound creepy - I read the Prophet regularly; I know you are an Auror, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m an Auror,” Draco said, feeling relief wash over him.

“I am Ivan,” he said, holding out a hand. Draco shook it. “I come from Ukraine. I have lived here just over a year.”

Draco nodded. “I went to Ukraine with my parents, once. My dad had to go there for work.”

“Ah, how did you find it?”

“Cold,” Draco said, with a slight smile. “We didn’t get to do much sightseeing, unfortunately.”

“That is a shame. Ukraine is beautiful. Especially the countryside. I come from a small town, Berehove, right near the border to Hungary. I love it there.”

“Why did you move?”

Ivan looked away, and Draco saw his eyes watering.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s alright.” Ivan wiped his eyes. “The Unspoken One came to our village. He was looking for something, we were told, but no one knows what. He and his followers burnt down our houses and killed most of us. They only left a mark in the sky, a horrible green and black serpent.”

Draco felt his face turn red, and for a moment he could have sworn that the mark on his arm burned.

“When you say The Unspoken One, do you mean… Voldemort?”

Ivan nodded.

“I’m sorry, Ivan.”

Ivan shrugged. “That was many years ago, now. I have travelled around, first to America, then France, Belgium, Russia, and finally here. I like it here the most. I have started learning about magical plants. I would like to open a shop, I think.”

Draco smiled, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. Voldemort had destroyed Ivan’s village, murdered everyone he knew-

“Draco,” Ivan said, bringing Draco back to reality. Draco smiled at the way Ivan said his name, emphasising the ‘r’. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Draco nodded, and followed Ivan to the dance floor. 

Ivan danced in a mesmerising way - it wasn’t particularly fast or impressive, but he moved with the rhythm of the music, as though it was flowing through him. Draco felt a bit more self conscious about his own dancing, but still danced with Ivan as best he could, while his mind continued to race.

When had they gone to Ukraine? Draco had still been very young - it had probably been his first or second year at Hogwarts. That was almost a decade ago, so it was safe to assume that Draco’s father hadn’t been involved in the destruction of Ivan’s village, and besides, they’d been in central Ukraine, nowhere near the border to Hungary.

But…

They had also travelled to Hungary, in maybe fifth or sixth year, also for his father’s work. And - if Draco remembered correctly - they had been near the border, and Draco’s father had disappeared for a few days for work, leaving him and his mother to sightsee-

“Draco,” Ivan called over the music, “Your friend is calling you.”

Draco turned around, and saw Pansy waving at him. He pushed his way through the throng of people to meet her.

“Looks like it’s going well for you,” Pansy grinned.

Draco blushed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Listen, I’m gonna go, I’ve got class early tomorrow. Can you make your own way home?”

Draco nodded, trying not to think about the fact that his father might have destroyed a village of innocent people.

“Cool. Have fun,” she said with a wink, and hugged him goodbye.

Draco made his way back to Ivan. “Your friend is leaving?” He asked.

“Yeah. She’s got class tomorrow morning.”

Ivan nodded. “It is alright for you to stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll just get a cab or something.”

“I can take you home.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you-”

“No trouble, don’t worry.” Ivan smiled, and Draco did too. 

They danced a bit longer before Ivan noticed Draco getting tired, and suggested that they leave. 

Draco didn’t speak for the car ride, except for giving Ivan directions. Ivan seemed to pick up that Draco wasn’t up for a conversation, and didn’t try to start one.

As they pulled up outside Draco’s flat, Draco turned to look at Ivan. “How many years ago was your village destroyed?”

Ivan looked confused, but still responded. “Four years ago.”

Draco felt something sink in his heart, and he looked away from Ivan, out the car window. “I’m sure… I’m sure you know my father was a Death Eater. We went to Hungary four years ago, on holiday. We stayed near the border to Ukraine. My father disappeared for a few days, for ‘work’. I think… I think he was one of the people who destroyed your village.”

Ivan was silent for a few seconds. Draco turned back to look at him. “You are not your father,” Ivan said, frowning slightly. Draco wasn’t quite sure if it was a statement or a question.

“I used to be,” Draco said, and he pulled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark tattooed onto his skin.

Ivan’s breath caught. 

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“It’s alright. I know… we want to bury our pasts. But, you are better now. You became an Auror. That is not an easy thing to do.”

“I don’t even know why I chose to be an Auror. I’m surrounded by people who hate me, and for good reason. My family killed their families. It would be so much easier to just… become a Healer, like Pansy, or, I don’t know, work at Gringotts.”

Ivan nodded. “The fact that you did not choose the easy route proves that you are a different person to your father. Despite your past, you still chose to help people, and save people. That is something to be proud of.”

Draco felt a tear fall down his cheek. Ivan reached out, and brushed it away. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly as his eyes fluttered to Draco’s lips. 

“I…” Draco paused, unsure of the reason. It was as if something in his brain was physically blocking every other part of him that was screaming _yes._

Ivan moved away.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I do want you to kiss me,” he said, but Ivan just smiled.

“Maybe another time. Let’s stay in touch.” He pulled a receipt and a pen out of his pocket, and scribbled his phone number on the back of the receipt, handing it to Draco, who pocketed it. “Goodbye, Draco.”

“Bye, Ivan. I’ll see you.”

Draco got out of the car, and walked up to his flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter took forever but im gonna try update more regularly especially since im in quarantine :,) 
> 
> sometimes im like. 13 chapters wow that's so much! and other times im like how have i only written 13 chapters it feels like 70


	14. Silence Guides Our Minds

Draco looked down at the receipt, with Ivan’s number scribbled on it. He had gone straight to bed the previous night, and Pansy hadn’t been awake to interrogate him.

Speak of the devil, Pansy walked out of her bedroom, yawning.

“Morning,” Draco said.

“Morning.” She yawned again, stretching her arms above her head. “How do you look less tired than me when I went to bed earlier?”

“I’m more of a morning person than you.”

“True.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “So, how’d it go with that guy last night?”

Draco blushed. “It went… it went well.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No.”

“Did you get his number?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you messaged him?”

“...No.”

Pansy gave an exasperated sigh. “Draco, _message him.”_

“It’s not that simple, Pansy. You don’t understand.”

“Then please, enlighten me on why a beautiful man with a voice that sends shivers down my lesbian spine has given you his number, and you _haven’t messaged him?”_

Draco sighed. “His hometown was destroyed by Death Eaters. And I’m pretty sure my father was one of them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes. He also knows that I was- that I was a Death Eater.”

“And?”

“He seems to be fine with it.”

Pansy frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah. He said I’m not my father, and that I chose to help people, and that makes me a good person.”

“He’s right, you know.” 

Draco sat down on one of their bar stools. “I don’t feel like a good person.”

“Why not?” Pansy sat next to him.

He stared at her. “I was kind of, you know, a Death Eater. And before that, I bullied people for like, six years.”

“People aren’t one hundred percent good or bad, Draco. It’s not like all the good people in the world have never done anything wrong.”

“I think I’ve done a bit more wrong than a lot of people.”

She shrugged. “You’ve never killed anyone.”

Draco snorted. “That’s a pretty low bar, Pansy.”

“Not for a Death Eater, though. I’m pretty sure that every other Death Eater has killed before. And besides, it’s not like you really chose to be a Death Eater, right?”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t believe how difficult it is to convince you that you aren’t an evil asshole who’s incapable of redemption.”

Draco smiled. 

“Also, you need to get better luck with guys.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Last time we went out, you tried to hook up with a guy that looks _exactly_ like your father-”

“He did not look like my father.”

“Shut up, you know I’m right. And now, you get the number of this dude who just so happens to have had his hometown destroyed by your father. Maybe Freud had a point.”

“Who?”

“Oh, Freud. Sigmund Freud. He was this Muggle dude that said we’re all either attracted to people who look like our parents, or look like the opposite of our parents. He was a bit of a twat, really.”

“Sounds like he had some serious daddy issues.”

Pansy snorted. “Definitely.”

-

_Harry was walking through a forest, wand outstretched, emanating light. The trees seemed to grow taller and closer together as he walked. He wasn’t following a path, but somehow he knew exactly where he was supposed to go. _

_He noticed a light up ahead, partially obscured by the trees, but as he walked closer, the trees only got thicker until he was pushing branches out of his way to try and get closer to the light-_

Harry shot up in bed as his alarm started beeping, his heart hammering against his chest. He took a few deep breaths, and switched his alarm off, before getting out of bed and putting clothes on.

Frowning, Harry walked to the kitchen and started making himself a cup of coffee. It was unusual for him to have such vivid dreams, and even more unusual for him to remember them afterwards. 

Hermione walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes groggily. Her hair was untamed and her shirt was buttoned wrong. 

“Morning,” Harry said, and Hermione made a noncommittal noise. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Sorry for keeping you up last night.”

“It’s alright. It was good to talk. And dance.” She smiled.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back, and handed her a cup of coffee. “How are you feeling?”

Hermione shrugged. “A bit better.” She took a sip of her coffee, and then looked at her watch. “Merlin, Harry, it’s almost 8. We should go.”

“Oh. Right.” They walked over to the fireplace, and each grabbed a handful of floo powder. Harry stepped in before saying, “Ministry of Magic,” and dropping the powder into the fireplace. In an eruption of green flames, Harry was whisked away. At this point he knew to keep his eyes and mouth shut, and his elbows tucked in, but it was still an unpleasant experience. 

After a few seconds, he shot out of the fire in the Ministry of Magic foyer, managing to land on his feet with some semblance of grace. Hermione joined him shortly afterwards, and brushed them both down with the brush she kept in her handbag before they made their way up to the Auror offices.

They were only a minute late, but Robards still looked extraordinarily stressed, pacing up and down in front of their desks as they walked in.

“Good, good, you’re here,” he muttered, “where’s Malfoy?”

Harry looked at Hermione, and they both shrugged. Robards gave them a look, as if to say, _see what I mean?_

“He’s only a couple minutes late, sir-” Harry started, before Draco ran in, stopping next to them, breathing heavily.

“Sorry. Overslept,” he panted.

Robards scowled, but didn’t say anything. 

Hermione nudged Harry. “Ron’s not here,” she said, chewing her lip.

Harry looked around the room, and sure enough, Ron was nowhere to be found. “Robards hasn’t noticed,” he muttered back.

“Potter, Granger, care to enlighten us on what you two are chattering about?”

“Er, Ron Weasley isn’t here yet, sir,” Harry said.

“He’s taken sick leave. I thought you would have known,” Robards said, frowning. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. “Anyway, we don’t have time - we’re short-staffed as it is, and there’s a lot of work to be done.” He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Listen up, everyone, continue with the tasks your supervisors have set you. Work quickly. We do not want the Muggle police getting their hands on all this. Granger, Potter, Malfoy - with me.” 

The three of them followed Robards to his office.

“I apologise that I have to keep separating you from the rest of your colleagues. However, it is imperative that the information you three discover - and have discovered so far - does not reach the ears of anyone except the people in this room. I believe that there is someone in here leaking information to outsiders.”

Hermione nodded. “I suspected the same thing when both the people we interviewed were attacked. No one could have known that we talked to both of them unless they were told by someone who already knew, and while it is possible that the Purists are getting rid of people that could incriminate them, it’s highly unlikely for them to start in the same order that we have been interviewing people.”

Robards nodded. “Exactly. We need to get those records out of Malfoy Manor as soon as possible, and seeing as you three are the only ones apart from myself who know of their existence…”

“I’ll go,” Draco said suddenly, surprising Harry. Draco blushed when the three of them looked at him expectantly. “I mean, I don’t mind doing it alone. I know the place better than anyone else. I lived there, after all.”

“I would prefer for all three of you to go,” Robards said, looking anxious, “three heads are better than one.” He laughed nervously, looking pointedly at Harry.

“Yes, sir. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.” 

-

Draco turned and walked briskly towards his desk.

Did Robards really think he was that thick? He could have figured out there was something going on, even if he hadn’t overheard them talking before. 

“Malfoy, wait-”

Draco came to an abrupt halt, and turned, arms folded, maybe too abruptly. Potter stood there, looking almost dumbfounded.

“What?”

Potter stumbled over his words. “Shouldn’t we, uh, I mean, what’s… what’s the plan?”

Draco stared at him for a few seconds. 

His first instinct was to be cold and distant towards Potter, but that was probably a bad idea - if he closed himself off, it would only make Robards more suspicious. Besides, he had nothing to hide, anyway. The smart thing to do would be to become even closer to Potter, and make sure he knew that Draco wasn’t hiding anything.

But, sometimes, Draco wasn’t smart.

“The ‘plan’, Potter, is to go to the Manor, take the records, and leave. Do you need any further clarification?”

“Uh-”

“It’s not like the place is booby-trapped, or anything. My parents might have been evil, but they weren’t insane.”

“Uh, right. Yeah. Well. See you tomorrow morning, then.”

Draco walked to his desk, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut underneath the satisfaction.

As he reached his desk, Draco froze in his tracks.

There was a letter on the desk, with a black seal, of a bony, skeletal hand reaching over a tower.

Azkaban.

His hands shaking, Draco opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter.

It wasn’t the shaky, unsteady scrawl of his mother, like he’d been expecting, but instead an official print. Somehow, that made Draco more uneasy.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy_

_We regret to inform you that as of 04:31 this morning, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy has been declared deceased. Her remains will be sent to Bones and Waxley’s Funeral Home to be prepared for burial. If this is not to your liking, please correspond with them._

_Regards,_

_Tyria Reddam, Overseer of Azkaban_

Draco stood, the letter grasped firmly in his hands. He had to read over the words three more times before it finally sunk into his head what it meant, and a feeling of numbness began to spread all over his body.

Something about the impersonal formality of the letter made Draco’s blood boil. 

‘Declared deceased’. Not passed away, or even died, _‘declared deceased’,_ as though this was a fucking autopsy, not a letter to her son.

Draco stood there for a whole longer, before quietly folding the letter back up, and sliding it into the envelope.

He walked out of the office, along the corridor, until he came to the bathroom, walking inside a stall and checking no one else was there before slumping against the door and pulling out his phone.

Still shaking, he phoned Pansy.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered, as the ringtone repeated and repeated-

“Draco?”

_Thank Merlin._

“Pansy,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Draco? What’s wrong?”

“They just- I just- I got a letter from Azkaban, and-” Draco choked on his words, his eyes burning. “It’s my mother. She’s- she’s dead.”

He heard Pansy swear under her breath before responding. “Where are you? Go home, I’ll meet you at the apartment. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

Draco hung up, and leaned his head back against the bathroom door, willing the tears to run back inside his eyes.


	15. Bottled Up [Part 1]

“Hermione,” Harry said, softly, lightly touching her shoulder. She made a noise of indignation, rolling over in bed. “Hermione, we have to leave soon.”

“Hm?” She mumbled, her eyes opening wearily. Then she snapped upright, looking panicked. “Wh- what time is it?”

“Don’t worry, you’ve still got twenty minutes.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Oh, god… sorry, Harry, I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. I made eggs for breakfast, left yours in the frying pan.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem.” Harry left her room, closing the door behind him, and checked his phone. Nothing. He had messaged Draco the previous day, asking him to meet them at the Ministry at 8, but there was no response.

Harry bit his lip. 

Maybe Robards had a point?

He didn’t _want_ to distrust Draco, but like Hermione said, blindly trusting him might not be the smartest move. 

“Harry?” 

Harry looked up, jerked from his train of thought. “Yeah?”

Hermione smiled affectionately. “You’ve got toothpaste on your shirt.”

They got to work just before 8, as planned, and the building was pretty much empty - most people arrived from 8.30 to 9. It was strange, without the usual bustle and noise. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Hermione asked as they stepped into the lift, “you’ve been off all morning.”

“Nothing,” Harry said, unconvincingly. Hermione gave him a look, and he sighed. “It’s just, Malfoy hasn’t confirmed that he’ll meet us here. I’m worried he didn’t get it, and Robards is going to use it as another excuse to gaslight him.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Harry. He probably just forgot to respond.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, but it didn’t quell the unsettled feeling in his stomach. 

Harry wasn’t really sure why he cared so much whether Draco was on time or not. His feeling of worry didn’t seem to stem from concern of whether or not they would get to Malfoy Manor and make some headway with the case, but rather from concern for Draco himself.

He seemed to be having a lot of that, recently, and he wasn’t sure he was a huge fan of it.

Harry looked over at Hermione as the lift lurched to the left, and noticed that she was absent-mindedly chewing her nails, her brows furrowed in worry.

“Hermione,” Harry said, and she jumped.

“Sorry! I- I was just thinking, I zoned out.” She smiled, but it felt forced.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m, fine - don’t worry about me,” she said, the smile forcing its way even further up her cheeks.

The lift jolted to a stop, and the doors slid open. They walked down the corridor, to their offices, and to Harry’s surprise, sitting in his desk chair, was Draco.

He looked _bad._

His hair, usually so perfectly styled, looked like it hadn’t been brushed. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his shirt was wrinkled, the top button undone.

He stood up as they approached. “Good, you’re here. Let’s go. I can take you with side-along apparition; it’ll be easiest.”

“You got my message, then?” Harry said, coldly.

Draco paused. Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to decipher his expression. “Yes, Potter. I got your message.”

Harry scowled. Draco could have at least had the audacity to _respond,_ if he was going to have that attitude.

“Come on,” Draco said, holding out his arms for them.

“We have been there before, you know,” Harry muttered.

Draco looked at him. “You’ve been there once, Potter. I lived there for the best part of 17 years. I think it’s safer if you just take my arm.”

Harry gave him a glare. He wasn’t sure why Draco had suddenly decided to act so cold, but Harry was determined to return the attitude. He grabbed Draco’s arm roughly. Hermione followed, chewing her lip.

They all turned on the spot, and had the air sucked out of their lungs as they were crushed and squeezed through space.

With a pop, they landed, at the start of a long, stone walkway leading up to a huge, cast-iron gate.

“Couldn’t have taken us a bit closer?” Harry grumbled, releasing his grip on Draco’s arm.

“There’s an _enchantment,_ Potter. You can’t apparate closer than this,” Draco said, and started walking.

Harry began to follow him, but stopped, realising that Hermione hadn’t moved. She was staring at the gates, her hand clutched over her right forearm.

Frowning, Harry walked towards her, and was about to ask what was wrong, when it clicked.

Oh.

_Oh._

How could he have been so stupid?

This - Malfoy Manor - was where Hermione had been _tortured._ Of course she was scared to return-

“Hermione, you don’t have to do this,” Harry said, softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I…” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I have to face my fears someday.” Her voice was shaking.

“Yeah. _Someday._ It doesn’t have to be today. Not if you aren’t ready.”

“I- I- God, Harry, how do you do it?” She sobbed, burying her face in her hands, “How do you stay so strong all the time? Doesn’t- doesn’t it still hurt?”

“It still hurts. All the time. I guess I just… push it away.” Harry pulled her towards him, and she sobbed into his shoulder. “We all have different ways of dealing with things, Hermione. It doesn’t make you weaker.”

She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Go home,” Harry said, “I’ll deal with this.”

She nodded meekly, and he squeezed her hands before she turned, and disapparated.

-

Draco turned around, and was about to call out to Potter and ask what the hell was taking him so long to _walk up a driveway,_ but he caught the words in his own mouth when he saw Granger disapparate.

“Is… where’d she go?” Draco asked, as Potter walked towards him.

“She’s going home. In case you forgot, your aunt tortured her at this place, Malfoy.”

Draco swallowed, feeling as though something unpleasant was lodged at the back of his throat. He started walking towards the gates.

Draco had decided that the best way to deal with his mother’s death was to try not to think about it, and throw himself into work.

Pansy had disagreed.

But here Draco was, walking up the driveway to the huge, iron gates of the house that he had grown up in, that his mother had lived in, his mother who was now-

_Stop it,_ he scolded himself, _you’ve got other things to worry about. Like how Potter is spying on you. Remember that?_

Yeah.

_That._

They stopped before the gates. Potter reached out to try and open them, and Draco grabbed his hand. “Are you _trying_ to lose a hand?” He snapped.

“Is your whole house booby trapped?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Just the outside. Stand back.” Potter did so, and Draco raised his wand, moving it in a sweeping motion across the gate. It swung open, with a creak.

“That doesn’t look very secure,” Potter muttered.

“If anyone but a member of my family did that, they would be hexed,” Draco said coldly, and stepped into the front lawn.

He tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding erratically against his chest, and the way he could feel his hands shaking as he put his wand back into his pocket. 

It all looked the same. Exactly as he’d left it, after the war.

He wasn’t sure why he had expected it to look different - all the bushes and trees were enchanted to self-prune, and the house itself was stuffed with enough preservation magic to last a century, but still.

It had almost been three years. 

_Something_ should have changed.

They walked up the front garden in silence, stopping outside the mahogany doors.

“What kind of booby traps are we facing now?” Potter said, his tone cold.

Draco pulled a large, ornate, golden key from his pocket. “Just a lock, Potter. I suppose you’ve heard of one of those before?”

Taking a deep breath, Draco inserted the key into the door. He wished Potter wasn’t watching him so intently; however hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his hand shaking. He turned the key, slowly,

The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Draco wished he had the strength to stop feeling.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked out onto the passageway. A thick layer of dust coated everything, but it was _all there,_ his grandmother’s carpet, the hat stand he had almost broken as a child - Merlin, even his mother’s hats were still there - and the ornate lights on the ceiling, _everything._

Draco only realised he hadn’t moved when Potter pulled out his wand and said, “Lumos.” Blue light filled the hallway, casting long shadows down its length.

Draco gathered up enough strength for a withering look in Potter’s direction, and flicked the light switch.

The hallway lights flickered, but came on, illuminating the passageway completely, and almost drowning out Potter’s spell. 

Potter blushed, and muttered, “Knox.”

Draco closed his eyes, breathed in, and stepped forwards.

_It’s just a house._

The hallway opened out into the foyer. _My mother’s pride and joy,_ Draco thought, looking around. The room was entirely for show - to impress people who visited the house. 

The whole room was framed around the huge, ornate chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Directly underneath it on the floor was a large circular rug, with runes woven into the patterns. 

Two large, curving staircases were at the back of the room, leading up to a landing with a second set of large doors leading to the rest of the house. To their left, the living room, and to their right, the dining room, with kitchen and scullery hidden behind it.

“The study’s upstairs,” Draco said, and walked briskly towards the staircase. He wanted to get out of the foyer as quickly as possible, he didn’t want to think about his mother-

Draco felt his body freeze as he placed his hand on the banister. 

_“There you go, pumpkin,” Draco’s mother said, straightening his tie. _

_“Why do I have to wear this?” Draco asked, pouting._

_“Daddy’s got a very important meeting today, Draco. We have to make a good impression. Do you remember what I told you?”_

_Draco nodded. “Smile, speak when spoken to, and sit still.”_

_Narcissa nodded. “That’s my boy. Come on, let’s go wait downstairs with Daddy.”_

_Draco walked down the stairs, a step behind his mother, and stopped at the bottom, his hand resting on the banister, which he was just tall enough to reach._

_“What took you so long?” Draco’s father snapped. Draco tried his best to hide behind his mother._

_“I was just making sure Draco looks his best, Lucius. And we’re here in time, aren’t we?”_

_Lucius scowled. “Yes, fine.”_

_Draco didn’t understand why his father was wearing his best robes, or why he looked so twitchy. _

_The doorbell rang, and his mother hurried over to open it. _

_Draco dwindled on the bottom step as his parents greeted the strange woman. They were talking about grownup stuff, and Draco didn’t understand most of it. _

_After a few minutes, the woman walked over to him, and kneeled down so that they were at eye level._

_“You must be Draco,” she said, and her voice reminded Draco of honey._

_He nodded._

_“I’m Millicent Bagnold, the Minister for Magic.”_

_“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bagnold,” Draco said, polite and well-rehearsed._

_“You can just call me Milly. That’s what my friends call me.”_

_Draco smiled shyly._

_“How old are you, Draco?”_

_“I’m five,” Draco said, proudly. Five was halfway to ten, and ten seemed like a good number._

_“Five? That’s very grown up.” She smiled at Draco, and he smiled back. “Draco, I have a question for you, and it’s quite important. Can you answer it honestly for me?”_

_Draco nodded. He heard his father’s voice from behind the woman, cold, and strained. “Minister, I’m not quite sure I see how my son’s input would-”_

_“We have a lot to learn from children, Lucius. They have a tendency to say things that adults are too scared to admit.” Draco’s father fell silent. “Now, Draco. Can you tell me - do you like your parents?”_

_Draco stared. His parents hadn’t prepared him for this question._

_“It’s alright, just tell me the truth.”_

_Draco swallowed. “I love mommy,” he said, “she makes my favourite food when I’m sad. And she gives good hugs.”_

_Millicent Bagnold smiled. “That’s wonderful. You can always trust someone who gives good hugs. And what about your father, Draco?”_

_“Daddy doesn’t hug me much,” Draco said, looking over Millicent’s shoulder to see his father glaring at him, furiously._

_She laughed. “A lot of men don’t like hugs. It’s a shame, isn’t it?”_

_“I’m always going to like hugs.”_

_“That’s good. Can you tell me anything else about your dad, Draco?”_

_Draco looked away from Millicent. His father was still glaring at him, and his mother was giving him a look he couldn’t quite figure out._

_He knew what his father wanted him to say. He would be lying to Milly, and she’d asked him to be honest, but his father was scarier than her._

_“I love daddy,” Draco said, looking back at Millicent. She stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. _

_“Thank you, Draco. You’re a good kid. And you’ll be a good man, too. As long as you promise never to stop liking hugs.”_

_“I promise,” Draco said, and she smiled at him, before standing up, and walking back to his parents._

“Oi, Malfoy,” Potter said, and Draco turned around sharply. 

“Sorry,” Draco muttered, “zoned out. Let’s go.” He walked up the stairs briskly, ignoring the increasing twisting in his stomach. 

Draco pushed open the doors at the top of the staircase, and switched on the light that illuminated the passageway behind them. The passage went both left, and right, and each side had three doors, and another at the end of them. 

The study was at the end of the left-hand passageway. Draco started to walk towards it, but found that his legs stopped working when he reached the second door. 

A plaque spelled out his name in ornate gold lettering. 

Draco’s body moved of its own accord, opening the door, and walking inside.

“Is this… your bedroom?” Potter asked, and Draco nodded, having almost forgotten that Potter was there too.

Draco’s seventeen-year-old self was immortalised in this room.

Posters on the walls of his Quidditch team - the Falmouth Falcons - the biggest one with seven signatures on it from when they’d gone to see the Falcons at their final match against the Chudley Cannons in 1993; another poster, this one of his favourite band at the time, the Wyrd Sisters; a Slytherin house banner. 

Some of his old school books were still on his desk, along with others he’d picked up from Flourish and Blotts. An eagle feather quill lay across an abandoned piece of parchment, the inkpot next to it still half full. 

Draco walked over to his closet, and opened it. All his green school robes were still hanging there, along with some of his casual clothes. He reached up to the top shelf - which he could now reach easily, whereas he used to have to stand on tip toes - and pulled down a black box. 

He sat down on his bed, the box on his lap. Potter was watching him from the doorway.

Draco opened the box, and he realised that he couldn’t keep everything inside him any longer.

He broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i promise i won't keep you waiting for the next chapter so long i know this was a terrible place to end but !! i am going to try updating weekly from now on. so we shall see how that goes for me. anyway. draco is babey and id die for him wbu


	16. Bottled Up [Part 2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains use of the f-slur. If you think you might be affected by this, please be careful reading the chapter. It isn't used in an explicitly aggressive way against someone, but is said in reference to a past event.
> 
> _[The end of the last chapter, just as a reminder of what happened:]_
> 
> _Draco walked over to his closet, and opened it. All his green school robes were still hanging there, along with some of his casual clothes. He reached up to the top shelf - which he could now reach easily, whereas he used to have to stand on tip toes - and pulled down a black box. _
> 
> _He sat down on his bed, the box on his lap. Potter was watching him from the doorway._
> 
> _Draco opened the box, and he realised that he couldn’t keep everything inside him any longer._
> 
> _He broke._

Harry watched as Draco sat down on the bed, and opened the box. It was a moment before he realised that Draco was crying. 

“Uh,” Harry said, like an idiot. 

He had never been good at dealing with other people’s emotions. Or his own, for that matter.

“Sorry,” Draco mumbled, wiping his eyes. 

“No, er, it’s okay,” Harry said, awkwardly sitting himself down on the bed next to Draco. He coughed at the small cloud of dust that rose up.

Draco reached into the box and pulled out a necklace. 

It was very simple; just a silver chain with a small snake pendant, winding around itself.

“My mother gave it to me before I went to Hogwarts,” Draco said, the silver chain draped over his fingers. “She said it was good luck, for getting into Slytherin. But my father saw me wearing it, and he- he threw it away. Said it was too ‘girly’, and that he didn’t want people thinking I was a- a faggot.” Draco breathed in, shakily. “I fished it out of the trash, and hid it.” 

He looked up, tears still falling down his cheeks. “I got word from Azkaban yesterday. My mother’s dead.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure saying anything would help. Instead, he took the necklace from Draco’s hands, feeling his heart jump as his fingers brushed against Draco’s.

Harry undid the clasp as Draco turned to look at him, and their eyes met. Harry wondered for a moment why he had never noticed how many different colours were in his eyes. 

He slowly draped the necklace around Draco’s neck, fumbling with the clasp. It looked _right,_ Harry thought. Like it was supposed to be there.

Harry let his hands fall to his lap.

“Thank you,” Draco breathed. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head. “Yes, I do.”

Harry nodded, and then smiled slightly, looking at the poster on Draco’s wall. “Can’t believe you used to be a Wyrd Sisters fan.”

Draco blushed. “Shut up, Potter.”

They exited Draco’s old bedroom, walking back into the passageway. 

Harry walked a step behind Draco, letting him lead the way into Lucius Malfoy’s study. 

It was a large room - larger than Draco’s bedroom, and it wasn’t as if that room had been small. A pair of dusty, maroon curtains were almost drawn, letting a sliver of sunlight divide the room.

A large desk, made out of dark wood, stood in the middle of the room, with piles of papers and books all over it. Behind it stood a tall bookshelf with even more books and files.

“What are we looking for?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “A safe? Maybe a hidden compartment, something like that. Probably should have asked him where to find it.”

Harry nodded, and started opening cabinets haphazardly. He supposed he should give Draco space. It wasn’t exactly like they were _close_ friends - he wasn’t sure if they even counted as friends at all - in fact, the exact nature of his relationship to Draco was very confusing, and it made Harry’s head hurt.

He’d thought they were closer after Azkaban, at least, but then this morning, Draco had seemed so cold - although, that could be attributed to the fact that his mother had _just fucking died-_

Harry sighed, looking underneath a bunch of papers in a draw. _It doesn’t matter what my relationship to him is,_ Harry thought, _the important thing is just to stop the Purists._

But Harry wasn’t sure he’d convinced himself of that.

As he picked up the last loose piece of paper from the draw, Harry saw a glint of silver. He picked up a small, silver key. “Hey, Malfoy,” he called out, holding up the key.

Draco walked over and took it from him. “This looks promising.” He walked over to a smaller cabinet in the corner of the room. “This is locked.”

Harry watched as Draco slotted the key into the lock, and turned. It clicked. 

He opened the door, revealing a safe.

“For someone who hates Muggles so much, it feels weird that he entrusted his secrets to a simple safe,” Harry said.

Draco shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of spells, too. And probably a nasty hex if you put in the wrong code.”

“Do you know the code?”

“No,” Draco said, starting to put in numbers, “but I know my father.”

There was a click, and the safe opened.

“My mother’s birthday,” Draco said simply. 

Draco opened the safe door, and turned back to Harry. It looked as if he was about to say something, but he stopped, his eyes wide, and yelled, “DUCK!”

-

Hoping that for Merlin’s sake, Potter would listen to him _this one time,_ Draco shot a stunning spell at the person behind Potter.

Potter dived out the way, catching himself and spinning round.

The person deflected Draco’s spell, and they started to duel. After a couple of seconds, Potter joined in too, but even their combined efforts at flinging spell after spell at this person seemed to do nothing.

They were wearing long, black robes, with red embroidery on the seams. A hood threw most of their face into darkness, but Draco could just make out a silver mask underneath.

“Potter!” Draco called over the chaos of their spells, “hold them off, we need to secure the safe!”

Potter nodded, and Draco ducked behind him, shutting the safe door with all the records safe inside. He muttered a quick spell to make the safe lighter so that they could actually carry the thing, and pulled it out of the cupboard. 

“We need to get out of here!” Potter yelled.

“Yeah, Potter, no shit!” Draco shouted back, joining back in to the flurry of spells against their opponent. “We can’t apparate inside the house, we need to get outside!”

“I’ve got an idea! Do you trust me?”

Draco looked at Potter, and nodded.

“Hold him off for a second-”

Potter turned and muttered a spell that Draco couldn’t hear, pointing out the window. Nothing seemed to happen.

“Potter, it would be _great_ if your plan could start working sometime soon-”

“It is working! Just- just trust me, okay? On three, aim your spell at the ceiling just in front of the door, okay?”

“Potter, what-”

“Just do it!”

“Okay!”

“One… two… three!” Draco shot a stunning spell up at the ceiling, and with a deafening crash, the area where he’d hit fell down, leaving a pile of rubble in front of the door.

A second crash behind Draco made him turn around, to see a broken window, and a broomstick floating next to Potter.

“Get on!”

Draco clambered on the broomstick behind Potter, awkwardly shoving the safe between them. 

“Hold on!” Potter yelled, and they shot out of the window. 

As the wind rushed past his ears, whipping his hair back, Draco grinned. He wasn’t sure why, but something about escaping death at his old house on a broomstick, with one arm clutching a safe full of top secret information and the other around Potter’s waist made him feel elated. 

Potter pulled them down into a gentle landing. “Come on, let’s apparate from here.”

Draco nodded, and they turned on the spot, landing in the foyer of the Ministry after a few seconds of discomfort. 

They looked at each other for a moment, before both of their faces broke out in grins. 

“We did it!” Potter said, punching the air. That got them a few strange looks from other people passing through the foyer.

“Thanks to you,” Draco said, “how’d you come up with that escape plan?”

Potter shrugged. “I just suddenly remembered the Triwizard Tournament, and how I’ve been pretty good at summoning spells since then, and I figured you would have a few old brooms in a shed somewhere.”

Draco laughed. “Yeah, good guess.” He paused. “Thanks, Potter.”

“What for?”

Draco blushed, looking away. “No, I just… despite everything that just happened, and my- my mother, I don’t actually feel too bad-”

“Potter!”

They both spun around at Robards’ voice, to see him striding towards them. 

“How did it go? Did you find the records?”

Potter nodded, pointing to the safe that Draco was still awkwardly holding under his arm.

“Thank Merlin,” Robards said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair, and completely ignoring Draco. “One of our other teams managed to capture one of those bastards, and he wouldn’t talk except to say that there was a ‘nasty surprise’ waiting at Malfoy Manor. It looks like he might have _deliberately_ been captured…”

Draco zoned out. If Robards was going to ignore him, then Draco would show him the same courtesy. He looked around the foyer, bored, when his eyes found someone he recognised, and it was one of the last people he would have expected to see at the Ministry.

“Ivan?” He said, and put down the safe. Potter and Robards hardly noticed, so deep in their conversation, as he walked, and then ran over to where Ivan was standing, looking at him.

“Ah, Draco,” he said, “I didn’t want to interrupt your work, so I was waiting for you to finish talking.”

Draco nodded, and then put his hands on his face, running them back through his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you, Ivan. I really am. The last week has just been-”

“Don’t worry,” Ivan said, smiling softly. “I met Pansy at the shop, she told me that it wasn’t my fault you hadn’t contacted me, that you were uh, stupid, and after being stupid, you had a tough few days. She told me to come find you here.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. She’s right. I have been stupid.” 

“But I think I understand now,” Ivan said. “Even if you hadn’t had a tough few days, you still wouldn’t have texted me. Am I right?”

“Ivan-”

“It’s alright, Draco.” There was no malice, or even hurt in Ivan’s tone. “I saw you talking with your colleague. It’s not fair to expect you to go out with me when you are in love with someone else.”

Draco felt blush rise up his face. “Wh-what?”

“The one with the hair that looks like he’s been struck by lightning. The way you looked at him when you were talking-”

“No! I mean, Potter isn’t- I’m not-” Draco’s splutters trailed off, his mind racing. 

No.

_No._

He’d gotten over Potter years ago, back when they were still at school, because they _weren’t compatible-_ Merlin, he didn’t even know if Potter was queer, he’d only dated girls as far as Draco knew - but Potter had just been a childhood crush-

Draco turned to look at Potter, still in deep conversation with Robards. He watched as Potter bit his lip in thought, and looked at the way his hair stuck up in every direction, looked at how he was standing, with one of his feet pointing out at a weird angle, and Draco felt his hand subconsciously rising up to touch the silver pendant on his neck.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me updating regularly? more likely than you might think
> 
> also, i just wanted to say: THANK YOU! this fanfiction has picked up way more traction that i thought it would, and i am terrible at replying to comments, but please know that i read every single one and i'm so glad that people are enjoying this! thank you to every single one of you who is reading this, i appreciate you all so much :))


	17. Recuperation

Harry flopped down on the couch, and sighed. It was a chilly Saturday morning, and he was under strict instructions from Robards (and Hermione) to: _“Relax, someone else will go through the records you recovered.”_

Well, Harry had tried every method of relaxation possible - reading, watching TV, cooking, taking a bath - and he still felt restless.

He sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently. It was only 10:17, and he was already going insane. How was he supposed to do nothing for two whole days?

Doing nothing at all was worse, he decided, because then he was alone with his thoughts. And since he’d kept himself insanely busy for the last week, he had a lot of thoughts to catch up on. Most of them were unpleasant.

But the thoughts that occupied his brain the most - which also happened to be the ones that frustrated him the most - were primarily about Draco.

It reminded him of school again, constantly obsessing over Draco, trying to prove that he was behind every single bad thing.

_But, things are different now,_ Harry thought, _he’s different._

Harry groaned and turned over, so that his face was pressed into the sofa cushions.

He heard Hermione’s voice. “Harry?”

“Mmph.”

“Budge up.”

With another groan, Harry turned back over, and moved to a sitting position so that Hermione could sit next to him.

“You okay?”

Harry sighed. “Uh, not really.”

Hermione gave a weak smile. “Thinking about Ginny?”

Harry’s heart leaped, and he felt his face going red. 

He _should_ be thinking about Ginny.

So why had she completely slipped his mind for the past few days?

“Uh, yeah,” he said, trying to sound normal. “And you… are you thinking about Ron?”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t know if I did the right thing. Well, I mean, it technically wasn’t _me_, because he broke up with me, but I was going to break up with him, so… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

She shook her head. “No. I asked Dean, and apparently he’s just stayed in his room since it happened.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.” Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, Harry, I came and asked how you were and just started talking about me. How are you doing? With Ginny, and everything?”

Harry swallowed. “Oh, er, it still doesn’t feel real, I guess. But I also think I knew it was coming, subconsciously. Even if I didn’t admit it to myself.”

She nodded sagely. “I think we all knew that it wasn’t going to last. I mean, how many high-school sweethearts actually stay together?” 

He nodded, absently. 

“I was thinking, maybe it’s a product of the war, you know? Obviously it can bring people together who stay together, like Bill and Fleur, or even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley - they got together during the first war - but I think there are also couples that got together out of necessity, and were never meant to work long term…”

Harry felt his brain zoning out of Hermione’s rambles. 

Was Draco still dating that Pansy Parkinson from Hogwarts? He wasn’t actually sure if they’d ever been dating, but it had looked like it, at least. And they were living together now. But friends shared apartments, like he and Hermione were. He hadn’t ever seen them together, though. Well, not that he saw Draco outside of work.

“...I don’t know, maybe I’m just over analysing. What do you think?”

“Hm? Oh, I, um… Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Oh. Sorry, now probably isn’t the ideal time for a ramble of analysis about high-school relationships and trauma.”

Harry laughed slightly.

“I’m worried about him,” Hermion said quietly.

Harry nodded. “Me too.” He paused, and bit his lip. “I’ll go see him.”

“Thank you.”

-

Draco lay on his bed, trying to ignore the sliver of light that was coming through the crack in his sloppily closed curtains, because if he acknowledged it, that meant he would have to close it, and he did _not_ want to move.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been lying there. He had drifted in and out of a restless sleep for a while, and then resorted to a useless attempt to untangle his thoughts.

There was a gentle knock at the door.

“Draco? You haven’t left your room in like, over a day. Are you okay?”

_Ah, so that’s how long it’s been._

He wanted to yell that no, he wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“I’m going to come in, okay?”

A pause, and then the door slowly opened.

Pansy walked over to his bed, and sat down.

“I know you’re not okay, but I don’t really know what else to say.” 

Draco stared at the ceiling. 

“You don’t have to say anything, but… I love you, and I’m here for you if you want to talk, or if you want to watch a movie and eat ice cream, or if you just want me to sit with you in silence.”

She waited a few seconds, and then he heard her shifting on the bed. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll bring you some food and water in a bit.”

He heard her get up and start walking.

“Wait,” Draco croaked, surprising himself. “Please… stay.”

“Okay.”

He heard her footsteps, and then felt the bed move as she sat down.

After a few moments of silence, Draco managed to muster up enough words to form coherent sentences.

“I think… I thought that I could just ignore everything, and then it would go away. But it actually just made everything worse. And now I can’t think about anything except her.”

“Do you remember when my parents kicked me out, and for like, a month, I pretended that I was happy about it, because I’d hated them anyway, and I was glad they’d kicked me out because I was gonna leave anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“And then, one day, I just broke down. We were sitting on the couch, and I started sobbing, and I told you that it _hurt_ because I loved my parents, and I’d thought they loved me. And you said, ‘You can only pretend you aren’t feeling something for so long before it eats you from the inside.’”

“Did I say that? Sounds way too smart for me.”

Pansy laughed. “Yeah, you did. And it stuck with me, because it often feels so much easier just to lock everything away and pretend it’s not happening than to deal with it. But you can’t keep doing that. You’re going to have to deal with it eventually, and the longer you pretend, the worse it gets.”

Draco paused for a second. “I don’t like that you’re right.”

“It’s hard being so smart sometimes, but I manage.”

Draco snorted. “Says the girl who almost failed her OWLs because she fell asleep in the Charms exam.”

“Hey, I’ve grown since then. And besides, you don’t need to be good at Charms to be a Healer.”

“Yeah, sure.” They laughed for a few moments, before Draco spoke again. “Listen, I’m… I’m not okay right now. You know that. And I’m not going to be okay for a while. But I’m not going to bottle everything up.”

“That’s all I can ask from you. And I’ll say it again - I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How about that movie and ice cream?”

“Sounds good.”

-

Harry knocked on the door of the apartment. It was a nice enough place, although it looked smaller than their apartment, and this one was supposed to house four people. 

The door opened after a few seconds, and Dean was standing there.

“Harry!” He said, a grin splitting his face. “Good to see you.” He pulled Harry into a tight hug, surprising him slightly. “Come in, come in, everyone’s gonna be excited to see you. It’s been ages!”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dean,” Harry said, smiling. He walked inside, into a living area. Two other people he recognised were sitting on the sofas - Seamus and Neville, both intently focused on a video game. “I got them into Mario Kart,” Dean said to Harry, still grinning, “haven’t been able to get them away since. Hey guys, look who it is!”

They both turned to see Harry, and immediately dropped their controllers. 

“Harry!” Neville said, almost knocking him over with a hug that rivaled Hagrid’s. 

“Hi, Neville,” Harry choked.

“Sorry, just… haven’t been seeing you much at work. We’ve all kind of been doing our own things.”

Harry nodded, and broke away from Neville to hug Seamus. “It’s really great to see all of you,” he said.

“You too, Harry. Sit down, I’ll bring some snacks.” Dean bustled off to the kitchen, leaving Harry to catch up with Seamus and Neville.

“So, what’s new?” Harry asked, sitting down on the slightly dilapidated couch. 

Neville sat next to him, and Seamus on the other sofa. 

“Not much, really,” Seamus said.

“Oh, come on Seamus. That’s not true.”

Seamus blushed. “Oi, shut up.”

Neville rolled his eyes and turned to look at Harry. “Dean and Seamus _finally_ got together. Only took about nine years.”

Harry grinned. “Congrats, mate.”

“Thanks,” Seamus said, still blushing.

Dean came back, wielding a bowl of chips. “So, Harry, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” He asked, sitting down next to Seamus.

“Well, I came to check on Ron, actually,” Harry said. 

The other three exchanged glances.

“Well,” Dean said, “you’re welcome to go knock on his door, but no promises you’ll be let in. Or that he’ll talk to you.”

“So he’s not doing great, then?”

“That’s an understatement,” said Seamus. 

“Well, I’ll give it a shot. Where’s his room?”

“Down the hall, last door on your left.”

“Thanks.”

Harry got up, and walked to Ron’s door, knocking softly.

“Ron? It’s Harry. Can I come in?”

There was no response.

Harry tried the door, and it opened.

Ron was sitting on his bed, curtains closed, face illuminated only by the glow of his phone. Clothes were strewn all over his floor, along with an assortment of dirty crockery. He barely looked up as Harry walked in and sat on the other end of the bed.

“Uh, what are you watching?” 

“This weird Muggle thing. It’s called the Simpsons.”

Harry nodded. “And, uh, how are you doing, mate?”

Ron resignedly switched his phone off, and looked at Harry. “How do you think?”

“Well,” Harry said, looking around the room, “it would seem you aren’t doing great.”

“Yeah.”

“So… breaking up with Hermione wasn’t the right thing to do, then?”

Ron sighed. “I have no fucking idea, mate. I knew it was gonna hurt. Just didn’t think it would hurt this much.” He paused, tentatively. “How… how is she?”

“She’s okay,” Harry said, “well, I don’t know. She’s managing.”

Ron nodded. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“You still staying with her?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s good. I mean, I don’t want her to be alone.”

Harry nodded. “Listen, I’m still your best mate, right? You can talk to me, or ask me to come over, or whatever.”

“I don’t wanna make you choose between me and Hermione,” Ron said bluntly.

“You’re not. I mean, I’m not choosing. I don’t have to. I’m still friends with both of you, and that isn’t going to change. Things might be a bit weird, but we’re still… us. Okay?”

Ron nodded. “Okay.” 

“I’m gonna go catch up with the other three some more. You wanna come?”

“Uh, yeah. Alright,” Ron said, and for the first time since Harry had arrived, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew this took a long time to write, it is very... wordy and touchy feely lol. anyway, hope you enjoyed :) my update schedule is going to once again be erratic as school has started again so i have very varying levels of motivation :,)


	18. The Stars Are Not Wanted Here

“Is it weird that my parents already drew up a will?” Draco said, absent-mindedly chewing his nail.

“Uh, I dunno. Isn’t it good to do it earlier?” Pansy said, sitting on the chair next to Draco and taking a bite of her toast.

“I suppose. She wasn’t even fifty, though.”

Draco sighed, shuffling through the papers strewn on the dining room table. He’d been off from work for about a week, that time spent either watching cheesy Muggle movies with Pansy, or the less appealing task of organising his mother’s funeral.

“So what’s happening with the manor and stuff?”

“Well, it’s still technically all under my name, because Father’s in Azkaban. But there’s some stuff that specifically belonged to Mother that she had in her will which needs to be distributed, or whatever.”

“Yikes. Sounds like a pain.”

“Well, most of it’s just left to me or other family members, most of whom are dead anyway, so it’ll only be one painful evening of meeting relatives I haven’t seen in years, and then it’s over. Although, there’s the funeral too.”

“You could just make that a small thing,” Pansy said, “you know, just really close family members.”

Draco snorted. “It’d just be me, then. Father’s in Azkaban, Bellatrix is dead, I don’t have any grandparents left, and I highly doubt that Andromeda would want to come.”

“I mean, you might as well ask her.”

“I suppose.” Draco pushed his hair out of his face, sighing. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to see any other people right now.”

“Then you don’t have to. Just do a small thing.”

He nodded. “Merlin, my grandparents will be rolling in their graves. I don’t think a Malfoy has ever died without at least fifty people pretending to be sad at their funeral.”

Pansy snorted. “Well, you might as well _officially_ disgrace the family name, since you’ve done it informally already.”

Draco smiled, as a knock on the front door rang out through their apartment.  
“You expecting a delivery?” Draco said, frowning.

Pansy shook her head, standing up to get the door.

Draco kept his eyes on the back of her head as she opened the door. He couldn’t see the person on the other side, but he froze when he heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, er, hi, Pansy. Is- Is Malfoy here?”

_Potter?_

“Uh, one sec,” Pansy said, and darted back to the living room. 

“It’s Potter,” she hissed.

“Yeah, I heard,” Draco hissed back, “what does he want?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know!”

“Should I tell him to leave?”

Draco pressed his hands against his face for a few moments. “No, it’s fine, I’ll talk to him.”

He looked down at his unwashed shirt and sweatpants, immediately regretting his decision, but deciding it was too late to back out.

Potter stood awkwardly in the doorway, wearing a black button up shirt with the top button undone, and a dark coat. He smiled awkwardly as Draco walked towards him, and Draco felt his heart jump.

“Hi,” Draco said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Uh, hi. Sorry to just turn up… I tried to text you, but you didn’t, uh, yeah.”

Draco glanced guiltily at the kitchen, where his phone had been sitting, face down, for the past three days.

“Sorry, I haven’t really been… on my phone.”

Potter nodded. “Robards wanted me to, uh, check when you’re coming back to work. I told him it’d be a while probably, and we should just let you be, but I think he wants all hands on deck at work.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I still need to do the funeral. I’ll be back after that, I guess.”

Potter nodded again. “I’ll let him know.” Pause. “Are you… doing okay?”

Potter’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed with concern, slight wrinkles forming around his astonishingly green eyes.

“Um,” Draco said, finding himself unable to form a sentence, “I’m… I mean, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll, uh, see you at work, then.” He turned to leave.

“Do you want to come to the funeral?” Draco said, before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure what had made him say it, and he felt his heart leap into his mouth as Potter turned around, surprise etched across his face.

“Uh,” he said, “if you want me there, sure. Yeah. I’ll- I’ll come.”

Draco nodded. “Right. Uh. I’ll text you the details. See you.” And he closed the door before he could embarrass himself further.

He turned around, feeling a blush rise to his already warm cheeks, and walked over to the couch, sitting down before holding his head in his hands.

“Well, that went about as badly as I was expecting,” Pansy said.

“Shut up.”

“Care to share why you suddenly forgot how to have a conversation?”

Draco sighed, and looked at Pansy. “I might have a little bit of a problem.”

-

Harry left the apartment building, feeling strange. 

Everything about Draco seemed surreal.

Harry knew, practically, that they’d been to the manor, that he’d comforted Draco on his childhood bed, and that they’d escaped certain death by destroying Lucius Malfoy’s study, but if he tried to recall the events, it felt more like a movie he’d watched than something that had actually happened to him just over a week ago.

And now, he was going to attend the funeral of Narcissa Malfoy, a woman he couldn’t have spoken to more than a couple of times - although, she had saved his life - a funeral which would also probably be full of ex-Death Eaters and Slytherins.

People who despised him. 

Why in Merlin’s name did Draco want him there? 

It wasn’t long before Harry reached his apartment - he hadn’t realised before how close he and Draco lived - and called out to Hermione as he opened the door. “I’m home!”

Hermione looked up from the dining room table, her hair pulled back out of her face in some semblance of a messy bun. “Oh, hi Harry,” she said absently, “how did it go?”

Harry shrugged. “Pretty much like I expected. He still needs time. Oh, and-” Harry paused, frowning, not sure quite how to tell Hermione that he was going to attend Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I haven’t, er, decided if I’m going to go yet, but he invited me to… to the funeral.”

Now he had Hermione’s full attention.

“What? Why?”

“Beats me. He just asked, so I said yes.”

“You just said you hadn’t decided.”

“Well, I can always say I’m busy or something.”

“I suppose,” she said, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “You should probably go, though.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That is not what I expected you to say.”

“Well, you know, Robards still wants us to keep an eye on him.”

“Oh. Right.” Harry felt something twist in his stomach. 

Hermione had turned back to the mess of papers strewn across the table, scrutinising the one closest to her with an intense glare. Harry sat down opposite her, and sighed. “I’m starting to think that Lucius Malfoy was just messing with us. We’ve been at it for a week, and there’s no mention of a location in any of these records.”

She looked up at him again, indignant. “Harry, we’re not even halfway. We can’t just give up now, especially after all you went through to get these.”

“I know, but… it feels to easy. To just have the location written on a piece of paper.”

“Easy? You almost _died_, Harry. And besides, why do you think the Purists tried to stop you and Malfoy from getting the safe? If there was nothing important here, they wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Yeah, but… Maybe they were as clueless to what was in the safe as we are. They could have just tried to stop us as a precaution, you know? Or they could even have done it to throw us off course. I mean, if they really didn’t want us to get it, why only send two people? And why only let the people retrieve it as we were doing it? They’ve had plenty of time to do it before now.”

Hermione looked at him, frowning in concentration. “If they found out about the safe at the same time that we did, then…”

Harry stood up, suddenly. “Someone must have told them.”

“Who else knew about the safe?”

“You, me, Draco, and Robards. Although, Robards probably told some of the other Aurors. It has to be one of them.”

“Harry, don’t you think-”

“We have to tell Robards.”

“But, Harry-”

“There’s no time, Hermione! If there’s a mole in the Ministry, we need to find out who it is right away.”

Hermione bit her lip, and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They tumbled out of one of the fireplaces in the Ministry, Harry barely taking time to brush himself off before walking as fast as he could towards the lifts, Hermione close behind. 

After a couple of stomach churning minutes in the lift, they stepped out into the corridor leading to the Auror offices, and Harry practically sprinted to the end of it, bursting into Robards’ office, breathing heavily.

Robards was sitting at his desk, and looked up in surprise. “Potter? Whatever is the matter-”

“There’s a mole. In the Ministry. Somewhere in the Auror office.”

Eyebrows raised in incredulity, Robards spluttered, “Wh-whatever brought you to this conclusion?”

“If the Purists knew about the safe, why would they wait so long to collect it? They could have gone and got it from the Manor at any time, but they didn’t.”

“And…?”

“They didn’t know it was there,” Harry said, still breathing heavily, “they only found out about it when we did. Which means that someone inside the Ministry told them.”

“And who do you suggest would have told them?”

“Well, one of the other Aurors you told about it. It must have been.”

Robards stood up. “Potter, you are crossing a line. I have known the other Aurors for years, and I trust each and every one of them with my life. There could be a million reasons why the Purists only decided to retrieve the safe then - it’s impossible to make an assumption based on that alone. Granger, surely you agree with me?”

They both looked at Hermione. “I- I don’t think it’s impossible,” she said, timidly, “I agree that we can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I think it’s worth being cautious.”

Robards sighed. “Potter, if it eases your mind, I will have someone look into this. But I guarantee you, the other Aurors are innocent.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t suppose you found anything new in the records?”

Harry shook his head.

“Well, keep up the good work. Dismissed.”

“Thanks for the support,” Harry said coldly, once they were out of Robards’ office.

“If you’d listened to me back home, you’d realise why I’m reluctant.”

Harry looked at her as they walked down the corridor. “What?”

“I figured Robards wouldn’t just immediately agree that one of the Aurors is working against him. He would be much more likely to suspect someone else, and apart from us, the only other person who knew is, well, Malfoy.”

Harry stopped walking. “He’s not the spy.”

“Harry, as much as I want to believe you, he’s the most likely suspect. Robards will definitely think so, at least.”

“Well,” Harry said, “fuck.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“No, I should have listened to you,” Harry said, leaning against the wall of the corridor. “Well, I guess we can only hope that Robards does the investigation properly.”

“Unless…” She bit her lip.

“Unless?”

“Well, we could try and find out who the spy is ourselves.”

Harry grinned. “And I thought your rebellious streak had vanished.”

“Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long since i last updated wow... school started again so i have been really busy, but here! 
> 
> P.S. - thank you for all the comments! i often don't see them when you guys comment because i get emails on my old email account, which doesn't show notifications on my phone, but i do read all of them (eventually) and i really appreciate the support <3
> 
> (also, the title of this chapter is a line from funeral blues by w.h. auden. it's a really beautiful poem, i think a lot of people have heard it since it was used in the movie four weddings and a funeral but i would recommend listening to it. fun fact: w.h. auden was gay, but this poem wasn't written for a lover - funeral blues was actually originally written for one of his plays, spoken by the brother of a politician who died, and was meant to be satirical. after that, it was published in a separate anthology and most people interpreted it as a genuine poem about grief and love.)


	19. Owl Post

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: use of f-slur

_Draco was walking through a dark forest, deeper and deeper into the tall trees. Although there was no sunlight, Draco could still just manage to see from some sort of silvery glow that was emanating from somewhere up ahead. _

_Then, Draco felt the cold._

_It was coming from behind him, and there was no mistaking where it came from - there was only one thing that produced a coldness so all-consuming that he felt every single ounce of happiness being squeezed out of his body._

_Draco started to run, but he knew that the dementors weren't far behind him. He could almost feel icy tendrils of desolating sadness reaching out, trying to snag him-_

_Up ahead, in the clearing, the light was almost blinding, he was struggling to look directly at the source, but he could just make out a shape._

_A peacock, made out of pure blue-white light, standing proud with its tail feathers splayed. Even though he could hardly see its face, Draco got the distinct impression that the bird was scrutinising him with a disapproving glare._

_For a moment, Draco stood there, the bright light of the peacock standing over him, before he felt the cold again._

_He whipped around, to see a swarm of black cloaks swooping towards him. He couldn’t make out individual shapes, and as he tried to distinguish one dementor from the next, they seemed to only get closer and more muddled, until they were all one cloak, one person, pulling down their good to reveal long, silvery-blond hair._

_Draco stared at his father, and the cold washed over him, freezing him to the spot and making him feel small, smaller, until he was ten years old again, and his father was leering over him, “You’d better not wear that necklace, Draco,” he snarled, “you don’t want people to think you’re a fag-”_

_He called out, to anyone, to the peacock, to help him, but as he turned around, the peacock was gone._

Draco shot upright in bed, his heart beating out of his chest. 

It was a few moments before he realised what had woken him, the remnants of his dream still fuzzy in his memory - an owl was tapping at the window, a letter clutched in one of its claws.

Bleary eyed, Draco opened the window, and the owl swooped inside, dropping the letter on his bed before swooping out the window again. Draco shut the window after it, scowling at how early it was - the sun had only just started to rise - and picked up the letter.

_Dear Draco,_

_I am terribly sorry to hear about Narcissa. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you. _

_Thank you for inviting me to the memorial service; I would be honoured to attend. I hope it’s alright for me to bring Teddy, too - it’s very difficult to find a babysitter at such short notice. _

_On a brighter note, would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I understand if you’re busy, of course, but I’d love to catch up before the funeral._

_Kind Regards,  
Andromeda Tonks_

Draco stared at the letter, rereading it to make sure he had understood correctly.

Andromeda wanted to come to the funeral - not only that, but she wanted him over for dinner to ‘catch up’?

What the hell did that mean?

They hadn’t seen each other in years - Andromeda had been estranged from the family since he was a child.

He grabbed a roll of parchment from his desk, and quickly scribbled:

_Dear Andromeda,_

_Thank you for your quick response. I would be happy to have Teddy there; I apologise for the late notice. _

_Thank you for inviting me over for dinner - I’d love to come._

_Best wishes,  
Draco Malfoy_

He unlocked his owl’s cage, and attached the letter to her leg, before opening the window and sending her off. 

-

“Hermione, are you sure this is going to-”

“Sh!” She hissed at him, and tapped her wand to his head. He felt the sensation of cold trickling over his body, and watched Hermione do the same before she blended in with the wall.

“I know how to do that,” he hissed.

“Not nonverbally. Now will you be _quiet?”_

Harry rolled his eyes, despite Hermione not being able to see him, and muttered, “Silencio.”

“Well, I suppose that works,” Hermione’s voice said, a bit haughtily.

“Remind me again how this is going to work without us getting fired?”

A sigh, followed by an explanation. “Because we work here, going into her office alone won’t trigger any spells. All we need is the disillusionment charm so that no one sees us. It’s quite simple, really.”

“And you’re sure there’s no other spells protecting it?”

“Yes, I’m sure, now _come on,_ before she gets back from her meeting.”

Hermione gently pushed open the door to the office of Erin Elarena, one of the Aurors.

They slipped inside.

Her office was slightly smaller than Robards’, but much messier. Clutter filled every available surface, from various papers and documents to small figurines and photos. 

“What are we even looking for?” Harry asked.

“Anything,” Hermione’s voice responded.

Harry couldn’t help feeling like searching Elarena’s office was a bit pointless - even if they could search through all the clutter, what were the chances that she would be keeping something that incriminated her in her office?

Nonetheless, he looked through pile after pile of papers, skimming them for any piece of information that might be useful.

After ten minutes or so, a sigh came from the desk, and he heard Hermione’s voice saying, “Alright, we’d better go before she comes back from her meeting. I don’t think there’s anything-” 

She stopped talking as the office door swung open, and Elarena walked in, followed by Robards.

Harry pushed himself as close to the wall as he possibly could as Elarena stormed over to her desk. 

“This isn’t up for debate, Gawain. It’s gone too far. Call it off.”

“I can’t stop it now, Erin,” Robards said, wringing his hands, “it’s too late. They _won’t_ stop now.”

Elarena took a deep breath, and pushed her hands through her hair. “You should have told me about it sooner. You should have told me before you even started it.”

“Well, that ship has sailed, clearly.”

“Yes, it has.” She glared at him. “I can’t even begin to fathom why you thought this would work. They can't be trusted.”

“They haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

_”Yet.”_

Robards chewed his lip. “I’ll keep you updated on everything that happens from now on. You have my word, Erin. I don’t want to sow distrust between us.”

“You’re walking a very dangerous line, Gawain. Be careful.”

Robards nodded, and turned to leave.

Harry quickly followed him, trying to get out the door with him, and bumped into what must have been Hermione in the process, but managed to squeeze out after Robards without too much trouble. 

He waited until Robards had gone into his own office, before undoing his disillusionment charm. Hermione did the same.

They looked at each other, not needing to speak to convey their shared thought.

_What the hell was that?_

-

Draco undid and redid the top button on his shirt three times before finally deciding on undone, and ringing the doorbell.

It was a quite a while before the door swung open, to reveal Andromeda, wearing a green knitted sweatshirt with a white ‘A’ on the chest, clutching Teddy in her arms, who was resolutely chewing on what looked like a toy dragon.

“Come in, come in,” she said, ushering him inside. “Sorry about the mess, I left Teddy alone while I was cooking, and, well…” she gestured at the many other toy dragons strewn across the floor. 

“It’s no problem,” Draco said, carefully stepping over them. 

Andromeda deposited Teddy on the floor with the dragons. “I’m nearly with the cooking - won’t you keep Teddy entertained while I finish up?”

“Er-”

“Thanks, you’re a gem. Teddy, this is your Uncle Draco,” she said, kneeling down to Teddy’s height and pointing at Draco.

_Uncle?_

“Uncle Dwaco,” Teddy said, grinning broadly. His shock of blue hair suddenly began to change to silvery blond.

“Don’t mind the hair, he’s in a habit of doing it to everyone he sees.” There was a loud beeping noise from the kitchen. Andromeda swore loudly. “Won’t be a minute,” she said, sweeping her long, curly grey hair into a bun before bustling off to the kitchen.

It was, in fact, seventeen minutes, by Draco’s watch, before Andromeda finished cooking.

Draco sat down in front of Teddy, who was lining up all his dragons in colour order.

“So, er, you like dragons, Teddy?”

Teddy’s eyes lit up, and he grinned again, before launching into an explanation of every single dragon’s name, species, and each of their favourite foods. 

“Uncle Charlie told me about them,” he said after the fourth dragon, “and this is a Welsh Green. I call her Nimbo.”

Although he couldn’t pronounce most of the names, Draco was quite impressed by Teddy’s dragon knowledge. 

By the time Andromeda announced that supper was ready, Draco found that he was actually enjoying spending time with Teddy, despite the fact that (in Pansy’s words) he was as clueless with children as a Muggle with a wand.

Andromeda had made a delicious looking pasta, as well as a large butternut salad. Teddy had his own bowl of pasta with what looked to be ketchup and cheddar cheese on it. 

“This looks great, Andromeda, thanks,” Draco said, before serving himself a generous portion of both salad and pasta.

“Oh, thank you dear,” she said, “it’s nice cooking something a bit fancier. With Teddy around, I usually just make simple stuff. No point making something complicated just for me.”

Draco nodded. “He looks like he’s doing well. Teddy, I mean.”

“Yes, he is. I’m glad, the transition to living here wasn’t too hard on him - he was only about six months old when Remus and Nymphadora were killed. Harry’s the godfather, of course, but that poor boy’s been through enough without having to raise a child too.” 

Andromeda looked up from her plate at this point, and Draco thought for a moment that she was glaring at him, but the moment passed as soon as it had arrived.

“Anyway, how are you holding up?”

“Er, I’m… I’m alright,” Draco said, attempting a weak smile.

Andromeda snorted. “You’re a worse liar than Narcissa was. And that’s saying something.”

“Well, you’re right. I’m not alright, but I’m getting there.”

Andromeda nodded. “You’re strong. Like her.”

Draco looked at her, and their eyes met. Suddenly Draco felt overwhelmed - here, sitting at this table, was the only family he had left. Except for his father, but… well. Draco wasn’t counting him.

“Why did you invite me here?” He said, quietly.

“I thought you might need it,” she said, “I thought we both did.” Andromeda sighed, deeply. “I know I haven’t been a part of your life. I stopped talking to my family when you were a toddler. But… after the war, I got a letter from Narcissa. I didn’t read it, at first. Didn’t think she’d have anything to say that I’d be interested in hearing. But my curiosity got the better of me, and I read it eventually.” 

She paused, stirring her pasta with a fork. 

“I was expecting a long, drawn out explanation, or apology, but she just talked about you. How proud she was of you, being an Auror, and that her biggest regret was letting Lucius drag you into all that Death Eater stuff.”

Draco felt his eyes sting, and he blinked, trying not to cry.

“Well, I sort of hoped that one day she’d get out of Azkaban, and we could have a reunion of sorts. I was always close with her, when we were kids. Bella and I always hated each other, but Cissy… we had each other’s backs. But now, she’s gone, and…” She sniffed loudly before continuing, “Listen, Harry’s told us all that you’re a good person, and that you didn’t want to be a Death Eater, and… I’m not- I don’t want you to apologise, or feel like you have to make up for what you did. You were just a kid. You still are, practically, you’re, what, nineteen?”

Draco nodded.

“Merlin. I know- I just want you to know that you’ve got family. If you ever need someone to talk to, or somewhere to crash, I’ve got your back.”

Unable to stop the tears, Draco wiped his face on his sleeve. “Thank you.”

Andromeda stood up. “Come here,” she said, stretching her arms out.

Draco walked around to her, and practically fell into her arms. 

She smelled like rosey perfume, and freshly baked cookies.

She smelled like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco finally getting the love he deserves :)  
\  
my computer is currently broken, and i d e s p i s e writing on my phone so i did this on my mom's laptop, just means updates are gonna be even slower than usual :/ also exams are soon so. i am supposedly studying


	20. All Lives Must Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there's a bit in this chapter that might not make sense if you don't remember exactly what happens in the books, so i've marked it with an asterisk, and there'll be an explanation at the bottom of the chapter)

Harry stared at himself in the mirror, and sighed. He knew it was pointless to try, but it was still a bit disappointing that he couldn’t make his hair any neater.

“You look good, Harry,” Hermione said, and he watched in the mirror as she appeared behind him, “really.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning to face her.

“Or you would, if you’d buttoned your dress robes up correctly,” Hermione sighed, and moved forwards to fix them.

“What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know, embarrass yourself in front of one of the richest families in Britain by having your buttons done wrong, I suppose.” She finished redoing his buttons, and stepped away. “There. Perfect.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “Still sure you can’t come?”

She nodded. “I love you, but… no way. And besides, I’ve got important snooping to do.”

“Reckon you’re going to find anything?”

“I hope so.” She sighed. “Whatever Robards and Elarena were talking about, it was definitly suspicious. Whether it has anything to do with there being a spy in the Ministry or not, I want to find out what’s going on.”

“Well, good luck. I’d better get going.”

“Thanks. And good luck to you too.”

It was a fairly short broom ride to the venue for the funeral, but Harry still regretted choosing to go by broom when he realised that if his hair was messy before, it was an owl’s nest once he got off the broom.

He was trying desperately to make it look more acceptable by staring at the reflection in his tiny phone screen when someone called his name.

“Harry?”

He turned around to see Andromeda Tonks, looking as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Teddy was walking beside her, his hair silvery-blond. Teddy spotted Harry, and ran up to him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s legs with a cry of, “Uncle Harry!” Harry realised with a jolt that Teddy’s hair was the same colour as Draco’s.

“Andromeda? What are you doing here?” He asked, as he knelt down to ruffle Teddy’s hair. “Hey, Ted.”

“Well, she was my sister, you know.”

“Oh. Right,” Harry said, feeling his face turn red as he stood up again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. The more pressing question is, what are _you_ doing here?”

“Er, I was invited,” Harry said, feeling increasingly awkward, “Draco and I are…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “...colleagues.”

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him further. “Well, good to see a familiar face. Let’s get inside now, shall we?”

Harry nodded, and followed her in.

Despite his initial surprise, he was very relieved that Andromeda was there too. He had been dreading standing around a bunch of Draco’s family and friends, who all no doubt hated him, with no one to talk to.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried - he and Andromeda were the only other guests apart from Draco himself, and Pansy Parkinson.

They walked into the main room of the small cottage, which was once presumably the living room, but had had its usual furniture removed and replaced with a coffin, a podium, and a small collection of chairs facing the two.

Draco and Pansy were standing by the podium, Pansy in a long, black dress with silver embroidery, and Draco in black dress robes with dark green and silver ruffling on the chest. His hair was styled neatly out of his face.

They looked up as Harry, Andromeda and Teddy entered the room, and walked over to them. Draco hugged Andromeda, and Harry watched awkwardly as they stayed embraced for a while before Draco broke away, and knelt down to hug Teddy. 

As Pansy pointed their seats out to them, Draco turned to Harry, and Harry felt heat rising to his face.

“Er, hi,” Harry said.

Draco nodded.

“Thanks, for, uh, thanks for coming.”

Harry nodded, but the movement came out jerky and stiff. 

At this point, to Harry’s great relief, Pansy intervened.

“Harry! Good to see you,” she said, pushing past Draco and surprising Harry with a hug.

“Yeah, you too,” he managed to say as he was almost squeezed to death. Pansy let go, turned to give Draco a meaningful look that Harry couldn’t decipher, and walked off to take her seat.

Before Harry could process any of the previous interaction, Draco had stepped forwards and hugged him.

It caught Harry off guard, and he stood frozen for a second before reciprocating the hug. 

Draco was thin, he realised - all skin and bones beneath the dress robes, his shoulder blades digging into Harry’s arms. He was slightly taller than Harry, too, and Harry could smell his cologne - sharp, but slightly musky. 

They broke apart, and Harry felt his cheeks flushing red once more - but not as red as Draco’s, who looked like he’d just taken a rather large sip of fire whiskey. 

Draco turned and walked towards the podium, and Harry stood frozen for a moment before taking the remaining seat next to Pansy.

“Well, that could have been worse,” Pansy muttered. Harry looked at her, surprised, and nodded. He hadn’t even seen Pansy pretty much since the Battle of Hogwarts, yet here she was, acting like they were old friends.

Draco cleared his throat softly, and Harry looked up at him.

“Thank you all for being here. I understand that this isn’t the most conventional of funerals, and that it might feel strange for you, but… thank you. I appreciate it.” He paused, and looked around the room, making eye contact with Harry for a second before quickly looking away.

“They say not to speak ill of the dead, but to say my mother was perfect would be outright lying. I know she did some awful things, and even if that was a result of her circumstances and not something she set out to do, it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt a lot of people.

“But, she also helped a lot of people. I can’t speak on behalf of others, but she helped me, at least. I don’t know where I would be without her. I can’t imagine the person I would have become if I was only raised by my father. She saved me both from him and his influence.” 

Draco stopped talking again, and Harry watched him take a deep, steadying breath.

“Narcissa Malfoy was not a completely good person. No one is. But she was kind, and I think that matters quite significantly.” 

Harry heard Pansy sniff from next to him, and felt his own eyes watering slightly. 

“Er, thank you” Draco said awkwardly after a few seconds, “there’s, um, snacks. And it's an open casket if anyone wants to… yeah.”

He stepped down from the podium, and walked over to Andromeda, who stood up to embrace him.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Pansy said, as Harry awkwardly looked around the room.

“Uh, what?”

“About school. The way we treated you. Draco is too. I don’t know if he’s said anything, he’s terrible at expressing emotions.”

“Oh. I mean he’s… kind of. I know he’s changed, if that’s what you mean?” Harry frowned.

“Well, yeah, but also that he genuinely regrets it. I’m not trying to excuse what we did. It was awful. But we didn’t have a choice, really. It was either following in our parents’ footsteps or being ostracised from the family, and hardly any of us were brave enough to choose the latter.”

Harry nodded slowly. He was about to respond, but there was a sudden bang as the door to the room flew open behind them. 

-

Draco turned on the spot at the noise, to see Robards striding towards him, followed by a handful of other Aurors. 

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but we have to investigate this body,” Robards said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the coffin.

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it again, frozen. An uncomfortable silence filled the small room, which was now overcrowded. Potter was the one who finally broke it.

“What do you mean, _investigate?”_

Robards looked uncomfortably around the room. “Well, I’m sure you’re all aware of the fiasco with Barty Crouch Jr. back when you were at Hogwarts.” *

Another silence, once again broken by Potter.

“What are you trying to say?” He took a step towards Robards.

Robards coughed, almost nervously. “We just need to be careful, Potter. I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“We need to be absolutely certain that this is the body of Narcissa Malfoy.”

“And it can’t wait until after the funeral?” Potter stepped forwards again.

Draco felt like he was going to throw up. He took a couple of steps forwards. “Potter, don’t, it’s alright-”

“No, it’s not!” Potter shouted, making Draco jump. “We’re in the middle of a _funeral,_ you can’t just show up and demand to examine her body!”

“Potter, I understand that it’s not ideal, but we are under immense pressure to find out everything we can- we have to be sure-” Robards ran a hand through his hair, and then mumbled, “if I’d known you were going to be here…”

“So you knew I wouldn’t approve of this? Tried to do it sneakily?”

“No, I only meant-”

One of the other Aurors stepped forwards. “Potter, Robards is your superior. This behaviour is unacceptable.” She had long, blonde hair and cold, piercing blue eyes. 

“Yes. Yes, quite,” Robards said, nodding. “Now, if you’ll just let us get on with it…”

Potter looked like he was going to keep talking as the Aurors moved past them, but Draco reached out and grabbed his arm. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Potter frowned at him. “But-”

“Just leave it,” Draco said. Their eyes met, and after a few seconds, Potter nodded. Draco let go. 

He watched as the Aurors levitated his mother’s body out of the coffin, onto another table. They poured over her, streams of light from their wands illuminating her now gaunt features. 

“Draco.”

He turned around to see Pansy. She jerked her head towards the door. “Let’s go outside.”

They walked outside, followed by Potter, Andromeda, and Teddy. It was sunny, but there was a distinct chill in the air. 

Draco noticed that one of the Aurors slipped outside after them, too, leaning against the wall next to the front door.

Pansy pulled him into a hug, which he returned half-heartedly. Potter was pacing up and down, his eyebrows pulled downwards in a frown. Andromeda had Teddy hoisted up on her hip, while he played with one of his dragons.

Potter stopped pacing, and looked as if he was about to say something, when there was a sudden loud crack behind him, and Hermione Granger appeared, looking distinctly frazzled.

“Hermione!?” Potter exclaimed as he spun around.

“Harry, quickly, there’s no time-” She ran forwards to Draco. He looked at her in surprise. “Listen, you have to go. Somewhere safe, where the Ministry won’t find you, they’re going to-”

“None of you are going anywhere.”

Draco turned, to see the Auror that had followed them out of the house pointing her wand at him. They all froze.

“Don’t even think about reaching for your wands. I’ll have stupefied you before you can even get it out your pocket.”

The door opened next to her, and the other Aurors filed out, Draco’s mother’s body floating behind them. They all had their wands out, too.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest for aiding in Narcissa Malfoy’s escape from Azkaban Prison,” one of them said, and waved his wand. Ropes shot out of it, and before Draco knew what was happening, his hands were tied behind his back.

He heard Pansy’s voice from behind him. “No! You can’t- he didn’t-”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down, or you’ll be arrested too for impeding arrest.”

His arm was grabbed roughly, and he was pulled backwards, and then he felt the rush of his body being pulled through apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [from the Harry Potter wiki page]: "Crouch and his parents hatched a plot under which Crouch's mother would take his place in Azkaban, using the Polyjuice Potion to disguise herself. She died and was buried in Azkaban, with the result that the wizarding world believed that Crouch himself was dead."
> 
> If anyone cares about my chapter naming conventions, here's a quick explanation:  
Robards accuses Draco and his mother of doing something similar to what Barty Crouch Jr did to escape Azkaban. Barty Crouch Jr. in the movies was played by David Tennant, and David Tennant also played Hamlet, so the chapter title is part of a quote from Hamlet: "Thou know'st 'tis common; all lives must die, / Passing through nature to eternity."
> 
> _Bonus fun fact: The skull of Yorick that was used in David Tennant's production of Hamlet was an actual human skull, belonging to Andre Tchaikovsky, a pianist and composer who specifically requested that his skull be used as Yorick's in a production of Hamlet. Tennant was the first person to honour this wish._


End file.
